


Rescue Me.

by rafesthighs



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother in laws who hate one another bond over their missing connection, Canon timeline up to the end events of Uncharted 4, Doppelganger, Kidnapping, M/M, Rafe Adler Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafesthighs/pseuds/rafesthighs
Summary: With Samuel Drake missing, a call goes out to his brother Nathan in order to make sense of the jumbled notes he left behind. But when Nathan realizes he doesn't know as much about his brother's life since their hunt for Avery as he thought, he starts to put together more than just the pieces of his disappearance. He never expected to see Rafe Adler again, much less have him be the key to finding his brother.
Relationships: Rafe Adler & Nathan Drake, Rafe Adler & Samuel Drake, Rafe Adler/Samuel Drake
Comments: 24
Kudos: 65





	1. Unexpected call.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first Uncharted fanfic!!! I've written a lot of Uncharted in my time being in the fandom, but never a fanfiction like this. It was mainly roleplay and things to go along with my art work. But I wanted to write a real fanfic this time, so here I am throwing it out there! I would like to say one thing before you read. Please don't bash the characterizations in this work of fiction. When it comes to a couple of characters, they have grown and gone through things off screen since the events of Uncharted 4 -- and I do my best to give their growth light while also keeping it inside their actual personality. 
> 
> I suppose this could be called a Rafe redemption fanfic, seeing as the growth that he goes through since the last Uncharted game. And it should be very obvious that this is CANON DIVERGENT. The exact specifics will be touched on in the actual work. 
> 
> The first few chapters do take place from the POV of Nathan Drake, but the POV will eventually change over to Rafe at some point -- with maybe a chapter or two from Sam in order to move the plot along. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy my fanfic, and if you do please let me know! I'm going at this all at once because my ADHD rules my life and I go with what it wants me to do. Right now, it's write this fanfic plot I've been thinking about.

There was a certain order that one expected their day to start off with. For some, it was a cup of coffee or a bowl of cereal. Some people did morning meditation, or just hopped right in the shower and off to work. For Nathan Drake, it was the last option. Climbing out of bed, and untangling himself from the sleeping journalist at his side, he escaped away to the small single door shower. A quick rinse down in order to wake him up and he was stepping out, smelling fresher and ready to face the day. A comical towel was wrapped around his waist, bright pink and orange -- like one you would find at a gift shop in Florida. ( Which happened to be exactly where said towel came from. )

It wasn’t until he had finished drying his hair and had a tooth brush in his mouth that he finally heard the vibrating. The cell phone that laid on the nightstand was currently going off. Vibrating a million miles a minute, he was worried it would wake his wife -- and silently cursed whoever was bothering him so early in the morning to a lifetime of stubbed toes. 

Crossing from the tiled floor to carpet, after spitting his toothpaste out, he snatched up the offending object just as he noticed a knit appearing in Elena’s brow -- showing that she was starting to take notice of the noise. The vibration stopped. Of course, it did. He’d missed the call -- and instead of swiping to get a look at who had called -- he took a moment to make sure his wife stayed asleep. She had been up late the night before working on something for a magazine based in New York. She deserved her sleep. Nathan got a bit lost in watching her sleeping face for a moment too long, that it took him off guard when he felt the phone start buzzing again in his palm.    
His own brow knitted this time, he looked down in annoyance before taking in who was calling him. The picture of an old man in an ugly shirt with a cigar hanging out of his mouth and a look of botherment flashed on the screen. 

_ INCOMING CALL, SULLY _ . 

Tightening the towel around his waist, he moved out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Closing the door with a quiet click, he finally answered the call -- lifting the phone up to his ear. It wasn’t common for Sully to call out of the blue like this. They called often enough now, since everything that happened with Sam, but this early in the morning?  _ Multiple _ attempts at calling him? His spidey senses were tingling and he didn’t like it.

“Sully?” was the greeting presented to the other line.

“Finally, kid, I’ve been calling all morning.” 

Nathan assumed that was an exaggeration, seeing as multiple calls would have ( more than likely ) woken him up. “More like twice, but okay. What’s the big hurry? It’s six am.”

“Six? Jesus, I forgot,” at least Sully had the tact to sound  _ a little _ regretful. “Time Zones. I didn’t wake Elena, did I?”

“You’re worried about her? No, but you did ruin my perfectly good morning routine. My skin doesn’t like it if I don’t get it moisturized when it’s still damp.” Walking down the hallway towards the laundry room, he wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of wandering his home totally nude with the exception of a towel. 

“Your . . . what? Forget it, Nate.” A little thrown off by the idea of a Nathan Drake skin care routine, it was clear that Sully was trying to move past it and on with the conversation at hand. “Have you heard from Sam lately?”

“Sam?” Pausing in front of the dryer, he switched the phone over to speaker and knelt down. Knees cracking from years of abuse, he yanked open the front and began rooting around. “Uh, no -- not today. Last time we talked was . . . two weeks ago, yeah. I sent him a photo of Elena’s ultrasound, same time I sent yours.”

“Two weeks ago, huh . . “ there was a clear trail off from Sully. Nathan heard the wet noise of the older man munching on the cigar in his mouth and wrinkled his nose a bit as he found a pair of underwear. Standing back up again, the crack of his knees once again the soundtrack to his life -- he tossed the towel into the open and waiting washing machine and pulled them up. 

“Alright, so why are you asking me about Sam?” Nathan finally decided to cave in. Sully and Sam had grown close since they left together, and while it wasn’t exactly as if Nathan and Sam were no longer bonded brothers -- hearing the concern in Sully’s voice told him something. Why was he checking to see if Nathan had heard from Sam? It was obviously because  _ he _ hadn’t heard from him. 

“Well, you see I was meant to meet up with Samuel tuesday. We do our typical crawl, he brings the scotch and I bring the smokes. But he was late,” there was a creek and Nathan assumed Sully took a seat. “I didn’t take any notice of it until he outright didn’t show up. I assumed there was some cheek to the guy when he didn’t answer my calls, but I went to his house and he hasn’t been seen in days.”

Nathan felt his blood run a bit cold. 

Not due to the fact that Sam hadn’t been seen in days -- no, he knew his brother. Sam was a wild card. Not talking to him for weeks wasn’t exactly a strange thing. Hell, he remembered a time before the fated Panama trip, that he didn’t see Sam for a week when he was  _ living _ with him. It was due to a woman at that time, but -- it just wasn’t uncommon. No, the fact that made his blood run cold was that Sully went looking for him. That Sam missed a meeting. Sam could be late, but for the most part he was a fairly punctual man. Nathan knew about Sam and Sully’s get-togethers. He knew Sam liked them, as much as he liked to harp about Sullivan. 

“Okay,” The rational side of his brain was trying to piece things together. “So he got a girlfriend and he’s off playing homewrecker.”

“I don’t think so, kid,” There was something in Sully’s voice that made it sound like he knew something Nate didn’t. Nate didn’t _ like _ that. “There were all these notes in his bungalow. I couldn’t make a lick of sense out of it, but maybe you could.”

“Me?” His voice rose slightly. “Isn’t Sam living in Hawaii right now?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I can’t go to Hawaii. Elena’s pregnant, I have . . “ he caught himself as he started making excuses. This is exactly where they were three years ago, isn’t it? Sam was in trouble, and Nathan was being left to pick up the pieces. The dejavu he was feeling was heavy and made him feel a bit sick. He glanced down at the phone still sitting on top of the dryer, his hands tightening on the metal edge. 

“You’re right,” Sully sounded as if he too was making excuses. “It’s too much to ask. I just wanted to make sure you’re aware of the situation.”

Nathan nodded empty, feeling as if his brain was rattling around in his head as he did. His head felt foggy. So much for feeling fresh and ready to face the day. Maybe he should take another shower. 

“Thanks, Sully.” He wondered if his tone of voice sounded as off as it did to his own ears. It must have because there was silence on the other line, all he could hear was the rough sound of Victor's breathing. Another wet noise of the cigar moving, and Sully was clearing his voice.

“I’ll let you know when he shows up, kid.”

“Thanks, I’d -- uh. I’d appreciate it.” 

There were no real goodbyes. Instead he just looked down at the phone until he saw the disconnected screen. Flashing for a moment away from it back to his lock screen, he stared down at the photo of himself and Elena on their hike last month. 

_ Elena _ . 

Lifting his head back up, after what felt like an eternity, he looked over towards the bedroom down the hallway and felt like it was a million miles away. He’d never lie to his wife about Sam again. He made a promise, and he knew that if he did, he’d lose her for good this time. 

But in the same breath of a thought, Sam was missing. Sully wouldn’t have called if he didn’t think it was important. He called to tell Nathan. Sam was a grown adult, Sam was his  _ big brother _ . He swallowed down a lump in his throat. He still felt like he had to protect him. He had to protect him to make up for the years lost to not realizing he was alive. 

Lifting his feet away from where they'd felt stuck to the linomlium of the laundry room, he started to make his way down the hallway back to the bedroom. Opening the door, Nathan gazed inside. Laying on the bed, Elena had moved since he left -- one long arm now thrown over his side of the bed. Eyes still closed, breathing softly and dreaming sweetly. He took in a deep breath of his own, feeling the cold air from the ceiling fan on his bare chest -- and started over to the bed. 

Sitting down on the edge, he lifted his arm up and brushed her shoulder softly.

“Hey,” his voice was thick with emotion as he saw her eyes start to flutter open. “I need to talk to you.”


	2. Improper skewer usage.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one . . . !

It wasn’t as if Nathan didn’t have Samuel’s address. 

He did, he just had never actually visited. After a phone call back to Sully to ask a few more questions, he had kissed his wife goodbye and gotten on a commercial plane to Hawaii. Elena had been understanding. She had been more than alarmed over being woken up by her husband saying they needed to  _ talk _ \-- but she had been understanding. He knew she would. There were no accusations, there was no fight. Just two adults talking. The plan was simple, he would meet up with Sully at the airport and the two would go together over to Sam’s home. Check out the mentioned notes, gather up what clues they cold and figure out exactly what was happening. Figure out exactly what had happened to Sam. 

Nathan was an adult, which was why when he got an earlier flight than expected and arrived at Honolulu International Airport six hours before schedule he didn’t think he had to report to Sully. He’d just let him know in a few hours after he’d poured over Sam’s notes. 

It wasn’t his first time to Hawaii, and after a three hour taxi ride he was finally at his destination. Climbing out of the cab, he paid and tipped his driver before looking over the bungalow. It wasn’t exactly what he was expecting, but he also didn’t know what he should be expecting. Sam was a strange man, but he figured the chairs sitting on the porch, with a table in the middle and an ashtray atop was the most  _ Sam _ thing about the home. Somehow it was just hard to see his brother in an actual house and not a hotel room. 

Walking up to the door, he was taking in the sights around him. The sparse yard, the connected garage -- the lone tree with a hammock hanging off it. Why had it taken him so long to visit? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Sam had never invited him down. He’d always invited himself over to Nate and Elena’s home instead. It didn’t strike him as odd until just now as he took in the environment his brother had been living in. 

There was a lump of anxiety in his chest that he decided to ignore for a moment. He figured the door would be locked, and giving it a quick turn and feeling the resistance -- he was correct. That was good, though. Sully had relocked the door after he left. Eyes moving over the small porch area, he noticed there was no welcome mat. All he saw was two chairs, the table with the ashtray and the railing enclosing the area. Instead he moved his gaze up. He didn’t think Sam would hide a key out here on the porch, but wasn’t it just like Sam to do something he didn’t expect? The mental image of his brother forgetting his key and not feeling like breaking into his own home all the time was floating around in his brain as he reached up behind the lamp hanging over the door. 

A small grunt as he fished around, he was about to give up when he felt a loose piece of metal. Grin blossoming across his face, he pulled his hand back down and looked over the shiny metal key.

“Bingo,” he said aloud to himself. Nathan inserted the key into both the doorknob and the deadbolt, but he was surprised when he tried to come inside and was stopped by a chain lock on the inside.

“Getting a little paranoid in your old age, Sammy?” he mumbled. “Or maybe you were trying to keep someone out.”

Not letting the door shut exactly, Nathan disappeared from the porch for a moment before coming back with a small stick. Getting his hand inside the door, it took a good deal of twisting and crushing his wrist in the door before he finally felt the last resistance give up and the door slide open. 

The air wasn’t stale, like he half expected it to be since his brother had apparently been missing for so long. Instead, the home looked fairly lived in. Nathan took his phone out and sent a quick message to Sully. Telling him he was at Sam’s place, the plane got in early, and asking him to meet him there was all he needed to send before the device was tucked back away in his pocket. Stepping inside, he closed the door to the home behind him and took a moment to just look over his brother’s abode. 

The decor was simple. So simple that Nate was convinced it came furbished. As soon as one stepped inside the doorway, one could see almost the entire house. The entryway was a part of the living room, a door mat on the inside as opposed to the out with a pile of shoes next to it. There were work boots, a pair of running sneakers that looked too small to be Sam’s, as well as a pair of dress shoes. The pile was neat. Above the shoes was where it appeared the coats would be hung. Hooks attached to the wall held the outerwear, two hoodies and one leather jacket. There was a light switch between the coats and the door, and a piece of tape over one of the switches that kept it in the  **OFF** position. A small sticky note above it, in a strange handwriting, that read **_DO NOT TURN ON, WILL KILL THE BIRDS_ ** . 

Looking past the entry, to the left was an archway that Nathan assumed led to the kitchen. Straight ahead was a black couch, a large area rug on the floor beneath it, with a coffee table in front of it. The coffee table had a pile of books, a notebook, a pair of reading glasses, an ashtray and a half drank cup of coffee. Beyond that, a modest television was mounted to the wall next to a large bookcase that showcased personal treasures and a collection of books and movies. The large window on the wall didn’t have much of a view, instead showing a small yard with a fence. 

There were doors on the opposite side of the room, and Nathan assumed that to be where the bedroom and bathroom were. He didn’t think there would be another room like a closet or work area. The bungalow looked as if this was all it had to offer. He figured it fit his brother’s personality enough. 

“The fish decor, I wasn’t expecting.” Hands on his hips, Nathan stared at the large metal pieces of art that lined the archway to the kitchen. It was part of what made him think this house may have come furnished. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but didn’t look down for it. He figured it to simply be Sully telling him that he was on his way. 

Nathan took large strides to make his way into the room, though it wasn’t exactly needed with how small the house was. Coming over to the couch, he sat down on the sofa and picked up one of the books and glanced over the spine.  _ THE COW IN THE PARKING LOT, a zen approach to overcoming anger _ . A slow blink and he was putting the book back down, moving on to the notebook that sat, half open. It was Sam’s, alright. He knew that neat handwriting anywhere. Sitting back now that he had something in his grip that may aid the reason he was here, he started to look it over. It detailed a trip to Russia. And by detailed, of course, he meant it spoke about it in the short hand that Samuel used when he took notes. 

Nathan read about going with Victor over, how many days it took -- but that was all he was getting. Flipping forward in the notebook and it detailed another trip, somewhere else. There was even a shopping list in here. And Sam had the gaul to make fun of how Nate took notes. Pictures were a million times better than bullshit nonsense. 

“There has to be something else,” he mumbled under his breath as he set the notebook back down next to the cup of coffee. That was when he noticed something else that was strange. The warm heat against the back of his knuckles. Pausing like there was a gun being held to his head, he looked down at the cup of coffee. Sam had been missing for days, weeks -- however long he truly had been missing -- why was the coffee cup warm? He thought back to the running shoes by the door, too small to fit Sam’s massive bigfoot feet. The note above the light switch that wasn’t in Sam’s handwriting. 

“Fuck --” Standing up a bit too fast, his knees knocking into the coffee table and dislodging the books causing the top two to crash down onto the floor. The noise echoed in the small home. Nate stood still and listened for any sound of another here with him. He heard his own heart racing in his chest. The thumping accented the paranoid thoughts in his brain. 

He wasn’t so stupid as to think that maybe Sam wasn’t living with someone. Maybe it was a girlfriend, or something. Perhaps it was a roommate. Maybe that was why Sully had wanted to meet up with him first. Break it to him easy that Sam had some girl in Hawaii that he hadn’t wanted to tell Nathan about. Sure, Nate would have been heart broken -- but he would have understood. It was hard to be honest sometimes. 

_ Thunk. _

Nate’s head whipped over to one of the two doors on the opposite wall. He was unsure as to which one held the noise, but he had heard it. It could be a girlfriend. It could be a roommate. But it also could be whoever took Sam, assuming that Sam had been  _ taken _ after all. Nate’s eyes locked onto the wall so he was able to see both door knobs at the same time. Taking in any movement, when the one on the right started to twist -- he ran. As quiet as he could, until he got to the kitchen. He heard the door swing open and the pad of what he assumed to be bare feet coming inside, coming closer until they made it to the rug.    
Reaching up onto the counter, he felt around until his fingers made contact with something he could use as a weapon. The large metal skewer felt pathetic in his hands, but he hadn’t thought to try and bring a gun to the airport. Another reason he should have met up with Sully. There was no sound coming from the living room. He didn’t know if his presence had been noticed or not, but what he did know was whoever was out there was  _ still there _ .   
Keeping his breathing as quiet as he could, his ears felt huge as he strained to listen to whatever he could. There was movement against the carpet, and he heard muffled footsteps. Nathan assumed he was picking up the books when he heard the sound of stacking. It was the sound of something being moved, unlocked and a lid opening that confused him. What the fuck was happening out there? Was Sam being robbed, and why would a robber care to pick up a couple of books?

The click of safety being turned off a gun was a sound Nathan could identify in a lineup. He moved before his brain had time to think. Reaching back up to grab something off the counter top, he held tightly to the large mixing bowl and slunk over to the cutout in the wall that allowed you to look into the living room from behind the sink. Nathan’s only thought was he needed a  _ distraction _ . Whoever that was out there, they were armed and dangerous. And he wasn’t about to let them get the drop on him. Coming up just enough that he was able to toss the mixing bowl, he threw it as hard as he could against the opposite wall -- the loud smash of the ceramic against the drywall was accented with a gasp from the stranger in the room. Nathan ran. He didn’t run for the door outside, instead he ran over for the entrance from the living room to the kitchen. 

Skewer still in hand, he ducked down when the man standing in the middle of the room spun around from where he’d been facing in the direction of the smashed mixing bowl -- towards Nathan. A gunshot rang out, loud and vibrating in his ears -- but Nathan Drake was good at avoiding gunshots. Rolling on the ground, he rolled over to the coffee table and grabbed one of the books -- throwing it right at the man. Getting him in the face, Nathan dove for him -- his only thought being to get the gun away from him before he could do any true harm with it. The man went down quicker than expected, almost as if he was unable to fight back as much as he wanted to. The hand with the gun was pinned down to the hardwood floor, the other underneath Nathan’s book as he stepped on his fingers. Nathan’s free hand held the skewer against Rafe’s neck as he opened up his mouth to spea --

_ Rafe? _   
He froze on top of the other man. Literally frozen. Blue eyes wide and confused as he stared down at the pained look on the smaller man underneath him. Because it was, it was Rafe Adler. The same man who he had  _ killed _ three years ago. He was meant to be rotting in the depths in tiny chunks after the explosion, not laying on his back underneath Nathan in Samuel Drake’s home. 

“Get  _ off _ me!” Rafe all but growled out. Nathan continued to stare at him in shock. He looked almost the same from here, and he wondered why it took him so long to recognize him. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was meant to be dead. He was meant to be dead, and instead here he was -- in his _ missing _ brother’s home. Nathan sneered down at him, pressing the end of the skewer against his throat. Not enough to press through and puncture, but instead on the verge of just that. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nathan all but barked. “You’re supposed to be dead, dickhead!”

“Surprise,” Rafe was straining to keep himself from being run through with the skewer. “Get  _ off _ me, Drake!”

“No -- what the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Sam?”

There seemed to be something that softened in Rafe’s feral expression when Nathan mentioned Sam. The dark circles under his eyes seemed more apparent now. But the curl of his lips in the look of anger was still present. And Nathan didn’t trust that he had no idea what was going on. Hell, he was probably  _ behind _ it. Never letting them have a moment's peace.    
“This is my  _ house _ .”

It was one comment, four words -- but it made a look cross over his face of shock. This was Rafe’s house? He pulled back slightly from his neck, but the skewer still made contact with the skin. Hazel eyes were locked on blue, but Nathan decided after a moment that he didn’t believe him. 

“Bullshit,” he said after a beat too long. “This is Sam’s house.”

“Yes,” Rafe sounded as if he was speaking to a  _ child _ . His annoyance was clear. Nathan pressed the skewer in harder, and he felt Rafe’s grip on the gun tighten. 

“You don’t live here.”

“Are you really so stupid you didn’t notice the picture of us on the bookshelf?” It didn’t sound like he was bargaining, but it did sound like he was trying to say anything to get Nathan off him. 

Nathan, in turn, glanced over to the bookshelf. They were far enough away that it was hard to get a good look at it. He finally figured out where the sound of a lid opening came from. On the shelf was a grouping of books pushed to the side that gave way to a small lock box that was laying open. That’s where he’d gotten the gun from. 

And above that shelf was the one in question. A picture frame sat on the edge, and inside it was a photograph. The photograph was of the very house they sat in, Nate could see that from this far away. In those two chairs outside were Sam and Rafe. Sam had his arm slung around Rafe’s shoulders. 

“What the fuck?” Nathan sounded shocked, and he wouldn’t have noticed anything different from the man underneath him had it not been for the hiss of pain. Looking back down he noticed that the skewer was starting to dig in, the small bead of blood at the connection point attested to that. He pulled back just as the front door opened from where Nathan had shut it. 

Hurrying inside, Sully looked down at the two men on the floor, taking in the mess that had been made of the house. 

“Jesus --” he exclaimed as Rafe leveled him with a look of pure unhappiness. Nathan still felt cold. A bit numb. This was Rafe  _ and _ Sam’s house? “Nathan, get the hell off him.”

“Me?” Nate looked up at Sully, an air of betrayal to his words. “This is Rafe Adler, he has a gun -- and you’re telling me to get off him?” It took a moment for the pieces to come together. As they clicked, his mouth opened and his brows knitted. 

“My God, you knew. You knew he was here.”

“Nathan,” Sully stepped closer. “Get off Rafe, we’ll talk about this.”

“What the  _ hell _ is going on?” Nate’s voice rose slightly, getting louder as he finally did just that. Removing the foot that was crushing Rafe’s fingers, he let go of the hand holding the gun. “You lied to me to get me here, or something? Not you, Sully, not  _ you _ .”

“No, I didn’t lie to you,” Sully ignored Rafe in favor of moving closer to Nathan who was now standing up. Rafe was sitting up slightly, rubbing at his neck after putting the gun down on the floor. Glancing over the blood on his fingers, he was quiet as he watched the father son pair in conversation. 

“Is Sam even missing?” Nate glanced back down at Rafe, who’s eyes on him were making him feel as nervous as he could possibly feel right now. 

“Yes,” the older man answered. He held out his hand in order to disarm Nathan. Who, after a moment of thought, finally handed the skewer over to him. “He is. That’s why I called you. I was going to tell you about Rafe when you got to the airport, but someone bailed on me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think coming to my brother’s house early would mean I’d be confronted by a ghost.”

“He was going to tell you at Christmas,” Sully attempted to ease the waters. “He wanted to tell you, Nathan. He did.”

“So all this --” Nathan felt sick. His eyes went back to Rafe. Again. Again, again, again. Sam had been lying to him, for  _ how _ long, about Rafe. Why was it always Rafe Adler? Why was this the one man who his brother, who had protected him from birth, would lie to him about?

“Maybe you should sit down,” the suggestion from Sully was a good one. Nathan nodded and made his way over to the couch, plopping down on it and staring at the neatly piled back up stack of books. Sully took a seat next to him. 

Rafe stood.

The silence in the room was heavy. The tension was heavier as Rafe leaned down and set his gun on the coffee table, before picking up his lukewarm cup of coffee and taking a sip -- hand still rubbing against his neck. Nate knew he was glaring at him, but he did nothing to break his gaze away.

“What the fuck is going on, Sully?” Nate instead broke the silence, eyes never once leaving Rafe. As if he thought, were he to look away, he’d reach for the gun again. “Tell me again why I’m here. And don’t leave anything out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay home, stay safe, and wash your hands!!!!!!!


	3. Ivan Popov.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter moves to Rafe's POV. I'm also posting this before I go to work, so if there's too many mistakes -- I did proof read but I'm the only one doing it and things slip by.

The air in the room was heavy. 

Rafe found it almost humorous that he was standing in the middle of his own living room while the two men he had once been at war with were sitting on his ugly sofa. Nathan should be the one standing, but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen. Not with the betrayed look on his face. Rafe assumed his legs wouldn’t be able to hold him up that long. His left hand curled around his coffee cup as he took another drink from the luke warm mixture. It was terrible. He had left it for just a moment to use the bathroom while he read during his wait for Victor to bring the youngest Drake over, and look what had happened. Nathan Drake had happened. He had to show up early, and ruin everything. There was enough stress currently inside Rafe’s head, he didn’t need to deal with being cornered so early in the day. 

“You expect me to believe Sam just  _ found _ you one day?” Nate repeated himself, eyes moving over to where the hazel eyed man stood. Rafe quirked a brow at him, not realizing he was speaking to  _ him  _ \-- since Victor had been the one telling Nathan the details. All he had managed to get out was that Sam had stumbled across Rafe in Italy. That Rafe and Sam had been living together, and that Rafe was the last person to see Sam alive before he disappeared. 

“What, do you think I was looking for him?” Rafe asked back, unable to help the sneer in his voice. It wasn’t just Samuel’s decision to keep Rafe’s presence from Nathan. It was, in part, Rafe’s. He didn’t want to see the younger Drake until he was ready. Not for his own sake, and certainly not for Nathan’s sake -- but for  _ Sam’s _ . “For any of you? I wanted nothing to do with you when you left me for dead.”

“You mean when I tried to kill you. When I thought I did kill you, because you were trying to kill me! And Sam! Or did he forget that?” Nathan sounded so offended that he was saying this to a man who tried, on multiple occasions, to either run him through with a sword or lodge a bullet in his skull. The same man who was apparently living with his brother in Hawaii. Rafe saw the irony, he recognized it.

“No one forgot it.” 

“Apparently someone did -- otherwise you wouldn’t  _ be _ here,” Nathan bit out. Rafe felt his blood boiling, and he tried his best to calm himself down. Brows knitted and eyes blank, the smile that was on his face was no one of happiness. It was what his Mother had liked to call his  _ passive _ smile. The one he used when he knew he was getting nowhere and wanted to dislodge the situation. 

“Listen,” Victor broke the conversation -- holding his hands up as if he was keeping two tigers from mauling one another. “We’re not here for this. We’re here for Sam, who is still missing in case you two idiots felt like forgetting it.”

“I haven’t forgotten it,” Rafe’s voice had a different tone to it now. Just like before when Nathan mentioned Sam, his face seemed to soften at the man’s name in the current context. “I’ve been reading his journals for the past two days.”

“Nate,” the grey haired man looked back over to the spitfire. “Leaving nothing out, all cards on the table? It’s exactly what I told you before. Sam’s been missing since Monday, I found out on Tuesday. Rafe was the last person to see him alive. We need your help, if you two can keep from killing one another long enough.”

“No promises.” Rafe murmured, walking over to the bookshelf and closing the lid to the lockbox. Slowly putting the books back where they went, cleaning up the mess. It was a small and trivial thing to do, but he could see it out of the corner of his eye -- and he needed to correct it. Not all the books were his, some were Samuel’s. Slowly hiding the lockbox back inside it’s cover of books, he kept himself physically busy for a moment -- setting his coffee mug atop a coaster that was stored on the bookshelf. 

“Yeah, well, I did so well last time.” Nate rolled his eyes as if he was being scolded as a child. The blue eyed man looked back down at the notebook on the table -- and drew in a breath. A breath to change the air, for the next words out of his mouth seemed to say that he was going along with what they wanted for now -- but the conversation was not over. 

“I looked over this book already. I didn’t see anything other than a diary of trips with you, and a shopping list for coffee and cigarettes.” Standing up from the couch on shaking legs, he steadied himself. Rafe was watching him like a hawk now, turning his head from his task, worried as well that he may go for the gun on the table. He regretted leaving it out, but he knew if this was going to go as well as it was able to -- he needed to show some type of good faith. Like any business transaction, if you wanted something you needed to make the client feel important. And while it had been some time since Rafe had been involved in any type of  _ business _ \-- he knew some lessons could be applied elsewhere in the world. 

“That’s just his book,” he dismissed Nathan as one would a child. “His real notes are in the bedroom. I’ll show you.”

“Ah,” Victor stood up -- and Rafe knew he had already seen the notes in question. He doubted he wanted to see them again, remembering the last time he was in the bedroom -- the image of the old man with a cigar between his teeth and a look of frustration as he attempted to figure out what the hell Sam was talking about stuck in his mind. Notes in languages neither of them understood, both realizing they would need the help of a certain brother if they were to figure this all out. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Rafe glanced back down and over to the broken mixing bowl on the floor. He liked that bowl. He’d have to bill Nathan for it once this was all over. 

“Thank you,” was all he said instead -- as he started over for the bedroom. Noticing that Nathan had not moved since he stood up from the sofa, he glanced over his shoulder at him -- one brow quirking up. His passive smile was no longer present, instead it was stuck in the permanent scowl that he had been landed with since he was unable to contact Sam. 

“Are you coming?”

“What? Yeah,” The youngest drake paused from where he had been staring over at the bookshelf Rafe had just gotten done straightening. Rafe thought for a moment he was looking at the photograph again. He dismissed it from his thoughts, and opened the door to the bedroom before stepping inside. 

The bed was unmade. 

It was uncommon for him. It made his chest pang as he looked at it -- but he ignored that. The only time the bed had been unmade in the year they lived here was mornings where he was too tired to make it, and Sam promised to do it for him after breakfast. Only to come up with something else that kept them away from the bedroom, the unmade bed waiting to torment Rafe when they slunk away in the evening. The thought of the older drake made his chest ache, and his wrists feel tight. He wanted to ignore it. Passing inside, he made his way over to the desk in the corner by the time he noticed that Nathan was actually following him. 

The desk in question was a mess. Covered in too many papers, it looked as if a whirlwind had gone through it. It made Rafe itch in a way that wasn’t just related to picking up a mess. That was Sam’s space. That was his desk. He wanted one, so he could map out his own adventures -- and Rafe was allowed to touch it, but he wasn’t supposed to move things.

_ ‘Everything has a space, Rafe!’ The rich tone of his voice as he wrapped his arms around Rafe from behind had been something he’d learned to hunger for. Those strong, warm arms, enveloping him as he tried to calm Rafe down from something that was bothering him. It was almost expected now.  _

_ ‘How could you say that anything here is  _ organized _?’ Rafe had sneered to him, two days after Sam got his desk. Some used thing from a thrift shop on the island. He’d sanded it down and oiled it up on the driveway, claiming he was putting some Drake charm into the old wood and making it his own.  _

_ ‘Just because you don’t know where something is doesn’t mean I don’t,’ The smokers lips were at the back of his neck now. Like a weak man, Rafe tilted his head forward -- continuing his glare at the desk as if it was his new mortal enemy. ‘It’s organized chaos.’ _

_ ‘It’s chaos alright,’ Rafe murmured. Inclining his head slightly to the side when he felt those lips traveling up his neck to the area behind his ear. A kiss was placed, and a shiver soon followed.  _

_ ‘Just don’t look at it.’ _

_ ‘It’s in the bedroom, Samuel.’ _

_ ‘I can put it in the living room?’ _

_ ‘Absolutely not.’  _

_ The laughter was raspy that followed Rafe’s offended tone, and he turned the smaller man in his arms in order to get a better look at him. Rafe’s eyes mapped over every line on Sam’s face, fond in a way he couldn’t explain because he had no name for it and was just starting to allow himself to feel the unnamed emotions.  _

_ ‘Samuel--’ _

“ --Rafe?”

Snapping his head up and over, coming back from the memory in his head -- he stared down at Nathan who was looking at him as if he was holding a knife to his throat and threatening to push. Nathan had managed to take a handful of notes into his hands during Rafe’s adventure into his own head. 

“Are you still here?” It didn’t sound concerned, if anything it sounded mocking. Rafe’s lip curled, but he walked over to be closer to the desk instead of commenting.

“These are his notes,” he said -- stating the obvious. “He was working on this before he went missing.”

“How exactly did he go missing?” Nathan asked, eyes scanning over some printed off photos from the internet. “I assume if you two are living together you’d notice if he didn’t come home.”

“It’s not that he didn’t come home, it’s that he just left.” There was a ghost in Rafe’s tone as he stared at a grouping of paper absentmindedly. “After he brought the artifact home, things got odd.”

“Hold up --” Hands raised, Drake leveled a look at Rafe. “What artifact?”

Realizing that Nathan had been out of the loop on the most important bit of information, Rafe stepped backwards and sat down on his bed. Hand holding the sheet under his fingers, running over the soft cotton. 

“One of his adventures with Sullivan, he didn’t mention it?” He wasn’t looking at Nathan, not wanting to feel any more aggravated than he currently was. His aggravation was coming from his anxiety, his uncomfortable feeling at the situation, his loss of a loved one. His own mental blocks that he was slowly getting over day to day. “He brought something home with him. A spehar, it looked like it was made of opal but Samuel insisted it wasn’t. He found it in a cave in Russia.”

“Russia?” Nathan perked up a little bit, looking back to the living room. “He mentioned Russia in the notebook out there.”

“He did?” 

“You didn’t notice?” The comment was not meant to offend, but Rafe bristled nonetheless. “These pictures -- they’re also from Russia? What was he doing there?”

A deep breath through his nose so he did not do anything that would upset Sam when he returned, Rafe gestured with his hand towards the entire spread. 

“He was looking for Ivan Popov’s bunker,” Spreading his legs as he reclined back -- he cleared his throat. “He was a Russian explorer who was said to have found the secret to expanding human consciousness past petty notions like selfishness and anger. The fact that he apparently died in his bunker with his million dollar fortune made it an interesting find for treasure hunters and idiots who recently got out of jail.”

“But he didn’t find it?” Nathan picked up a couple more papers, and seemed to be moving them around in a specific way. 

“He said he didn’t,” Rafe leaned forward slightly in order to get a better look at what he was doing. “He found one of his sites, and that’s where he found the artifact.”

“ _ Ivan Popov died in 1889. When they found his body the cause of death was listed as exposure, those who saw him said that they thought he looked like life had been sucked out of him. One compared the sight to that of a fruit left in the sun _ \-- that’s disgusting,” Reading from a paper in his hand, Nathan scanned over the document. “ _ The wife of Ivan Popov survived only three days past her husband's death. She too was found atop the same mountain he died on, thought to have commited sucide in her grief. A witness to her body described her as looking like a piece of dried meat. _ ”

Nathan turned his head over to Rafe who was just looking at him as if he was confused why he was reading the pages to him. “Did Sam say where the site was that he found the artifact?”

“You mean that sphear?” Victor’s voice cut in through the room as he stepped in, having finished cleaning up the mess Nathan had caused. “Shiny little thing he brought back with him. Kept it wrapped in cloth, wouldn’t let me touch it.”

“Yeah, if you touch it then you’ll summon the curse.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his eyes back up with a knitted brow. “What curse?”

The look that spread over Nathan’s face told Rafe that he was debating on what to say. “You mean you’ve been sitting here reading his notes, but you didn’t notice the section about the curse?”

“Pretend I missed that,” Hazel eyes narrowed in his direction. 

Opening his mouth slightly, Nathan looked back down at the collection of paper before him. He tapped a bit written in Russian, and something Rafe didn’t recognize, before lifting it up. “This is Ivan Popov’s work -- well, a section of it. I don’t know where Sam got it, but I’ve read about it before.”

“His human consciousness or about his fortune?”

“The conscious. He mentions a sphere like gem that if touched by human flesh would bestow the curse upon the unlucky asshole,” Nate seemed to be paraphrasing. Rafe felt sick. He stared at Nathan, having lost a bit of color in his face. Something that was not unnoticed by Victor. 

“Rafe?” he said, approaching him. “What do you know?”

“What type of  _ curse _ ?” Rafe ignored him, speaking instead directly to Nathan who regarded him slightly.

“It doesn’t exactly say. Why?”

“Are you sure Sam didn’t touch it?” Finally looking back over to Victor, Rafe was holding the sheets of the bed tighter than before. The other two men in the room stared. 

“No, he wouldn’t even let me touch it.” There was a look that Victor and Nathan shared before their eyes were back on Rafe once more.

“Rafe,” The youngest drake seemed to be losing his patience. He repeated Victor’s words. “What do you  _ know _ ? Did Sam touch it?”

“Why does it matter if Sam touched it -- it’s some mumbo jumbo shit, right? Some ancient curse?” Sullivan seemed to be trying to brush off, but it didn’t seem like the adventurer was having any part of it.

“Seriously, with everything we’ve seen -- you’re not going to believe in curses?” Nate quirked a brow at him, just in time with Rafe standing up. 

The anger was back. It was inside him, welling up in his chest -- and he needed to remove himself from the situation. His anxiety was making his heart race, but just as he was about to move to walk out of the room -- Nathan reached out and grabbed his wrist. The noise that left Rafe was a low snarl as he looked over his shoulder at him.

“Where are you going? He touched it -- didn’t he?” Nathan seemed convinced. It did nothing but make Rafe more upset, especially since he was getting it wrong. The urge to correct him was stronger than his pride to keep his mouth shut. Almost as strong as the urge to strike him.

“He didn’t touch it,” he snapped out -- whipping his hand away from him. “You heard Victor -- he knew better. But he neglected to tell me how important it was not to touch it.”

“What does that mean?”

“ _ I _ touched it, you idiot.”

Hand still hanging in the air, Rafe ignored it as he stormed out of the room. The comment from Nathan was not lost on him as he left his own bedroom, no -- in fact it rang in his ears as he went for the front door.

“So why is Sam missing and not Rafe? Shouldn’t Rafe be cursed?”

* * *

The creek of the plastic underneath him was all he could hear at the moment. There were no neighbors. When Sam rented the house, he’d made sure to pick something that was cheap and far away from other residents on the island. The views were terrible, but it also wasn’t as if either of them had come to Hawaii to see the sights. They had come to get away. They planned to move within the year, but it had just gotten away from them. Rafe knew it had something to do with the fact that the therapist he was working with lived here. Sam hadn’t wanted to take him away from that. 

Rafe wished they’d moved. Maybe one tiny action would have been enough to be a butterfly effect on their entire lives, and Samuel would be sitting in the kitchen singing some stupid song at the top of his off key lungs while he whipped up a couple of sandwiches for them. Something domestic and simple to kill the time before Victor came to sweep him away. His eyes moved over to the ashtray sitting on the table. They glued to the cigarette butts still sitting inside. Nathan’s words from moments before were still echoing around in his head. 

_ Shouldn’t Rafe be cursed _ ?

That was right -- wasn’t it? 

Whoever touched the artifact was meant to be cursed, so why was Samuel missing? It made no sense to him, and it was sinking into his feeling of guilt. And like with all emotions that Rafe felt, that he was trying to ignore, anger soon came up behind it. He focused on the ashtray. He tried to remember what his therapist said. He tried to remember if he took his medication today on top of everything that was going on. But no matter how he distracted himself, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the ashtray. Every detail of it made him angry. From the melted plastic around the edges where Sam had held a lighter against it to add some  _ character  _ while he was drunk, to how it was never clean no matter how many times Rafe washed it. It, like everything in this house, was a testament to their relationship. To their lives together. 

Reaching out suddenly, Rafe picked up the ashtray and threw it as hard as he could into the driveway. The plastic made a loud sound as it bounced off the cement, before skipping across the yard and ending up more towards the road. 

“What did the ashtray do to you?” 

The voice that cut through the air belonged to Victor. Rafe whipped his head around to look at him before looking back down and glaring at his lap. He said nothing. 

His relationship with Sullivan was a difficult one. His reaction to seeing Rafe again wasn’t unlike Nathan’s. It was anger, it was the constant reminder of Panama and everything that had happened after it. But unlike Nathan, Victor wasn’t forced to deal with Rafe in one sitting. It had taken time. Their relationship wasn’t anything like his and Nathans, or even his and Sams. It was different. 

“Why are you out here?” Rafe asked, looking at him through hair that had fallen away from where it was pushed back atop his head. 

“Nathan’s looking at the notes again. I told him I’d take him to where Sam found that damn thing, but he wants to see if there’s something he missed.” Taking the half smoked cigar out of his shirt pocket, and putting it in his mouth -- he flicked a match to life. Rafe regretted throwing the ashtray, thinking about how disgusting the discharge was going to make his porch. 

There was silence between them. Rafe stared at his knees as Victor smoked.

“He’s right,” was all that was said to break the silence after far too long. Victor spared him a glance, but said nothing. “It doesn’t make any sense. It should be me cursed.”

“Don’t think Sam would like that much, Rafe,” Blowing smoke out -- he reclined in the creaky plastic chair. “Whatever happened, happened. Sam shouldn’t have brought that home if he had written proof that it was bad news.”

“But I touched it,” Rafe was staring at his hands now -- eyes looking over his palms. “So why is he missing?”

“I don’t have answers for you.”

“I know.”

“But I’m sure Sam will when we find him.”

Lifting his gaze up to Victor, the bags underneath Rafe’s eyes told stories of how much this was draining him. He never liked when Sam went away. The memory of waking up one day and Sam being gone was still something heavy in his head. The memory of the day that Samuel went from looking for Avery’s treasure with him, to running off without a word to find Nathan. It was something they had worked on getting over, just like Rafe hunting them like dogs. But the time away from his partner was still something that brought up bad memories. He didn’t like to remember them. He slept less than he already did. 

“You’re right,” Rafe licked his lips and nodded. As if he was convincing himself. “Samuel should know what mess he’s gotten himself into and -- we’ll just have to figure it out when we find him.”

“Right,” Victor grinned at him, old eyes crinkling as he did. 

“Sully?” the voice from inside called -- and Rafe was reminded once again that Nathan Drake truly was here. “Sully -- get in here, I need you to show me something.”

Standing up, Sully’s entire body cracked as he did. Rafe didn’t move to follow him, but he did watch him with his eyes. Opening his mouth, he almost said something before changing his mind and calling after him.

“Don’t smoke in my house, Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay home, wash your hands and keep your face covered! Drink plenty of water.


	4. Pizza and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm putting these chapters out pretty fast, but that's only because I have a lot of time to write on the weekends -- so during the week things will slow down, more likely. Again -- I apologize if there's any mistakes! I tried getting some friends to help me read over a couple bits, but they were too busy.

He always expected to see Nathan Drake again. He was such a fool that he would think being involved with Sam wouldn’t mean Nathan would come back into his life again. Rafe just always thought he had more time. One would think that after everything that had happened, he wouldn’t be putting anything off until tomorrow. He had almost died. He had lost everything, every single thing in his life that kept him together and whole -- with one exception. When he thought he was alone and lost in this world, when he  _ was _ alone and lost -- Sam had stumbled back into his life again. It hadn’t gone well at first. The bad air between them meant there was a poison that was hard to swallow. But they had made it, somehow. He felt it was almost fitting -- they both had been left for dead, only to find one another again.

Putting something off until a tomorrow you didn’t know if you’d be able to see wasn’t something he did. But putting Nathan off for another day, another year -- was something he’d grown comfortable doing. He had finally managed to agree with Samuel to tell him about their circumstances come Christmas. Sam wasn’t big on family get togethers, or at least that was the air he liked to put on. Yet every year since their reunion, he left Rafe’s side to go see Nathan during the holidays. He stayed for a few days, outstayed his welcome, and went back to the hazel eyed man. They both knew they didn’t enjoy the separation, and that was part of why the agreement to tell Nathan had been struck -- things needed to change. 

But, life was never easy. It never did what you wanted it to do, and having Nathan Drake sitting in his living room without Sam by his side was evident of that.

After finally allowing himself to come back inside -- he had noticed that his house was once again in disarray. The coffee table in front of the couch had been pulled against the wall, in front of the window now. The notes from inside the bedroom had been brought out as if they needed more space to be viewed, laid out on the ground by the aforementioned bane of Rafe’s existence. Nathan was on his knees, moving papers around -- putting pictures together, clippings atop of those that were akin to them. Sully was sitting on the couch behind him, chewing on his no longer smoking cigar and watching him. 

“Was the bedroom not good enough?” Rafe asked, still feeling a bit drained from the thought of  _ why not me? _ But trying to see the betterment of the moment. 

“I don’t know how he made sense of any of this. And I thought my organizing skills were bad,” Nathan murmured as he lifted up another print-out of Ivan Popov’s death. Sully snorted slightly as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning attention back over to Rafe and ignoring the adventurer who was far too into his element. 

“Nate wanted me to point out where I took Sam,” he told him -- answering the unasked question of why Nathan had called him back into the room. 

“You took him to one of Ivan’s excavation sites, didn’t you? That’s what Samuel told me.” Rafe, feeling a bit out of sorts as there was nowhere to sit down again, instead walked over to the cutout in the wall to the kitchen -- one of the stools that sat near the wall became his perch. 

“I took him to the mountains. He found the site all on his own,” Recalling the last time he saw Sam must be dealing heavily on Sully’s mind -- his brow was furrowed. “But I could figure close enough to where he found that shiny piece of rock.”

“Let me guess. The  _ legend _ over there can pinpoint the exact location,” there was a bitter tone to Rafe’s voice as he made the snark comment. It wasn’t just resentment for Nathan, it was hurt pride. He had spent far too long these past few days scouring over the notes left behind by his partner. He had made sense of some of it, but not nearly as much as Nathan had made in a few moments of being here. It made his chest hurt. 

“Not exactly, but he’s getting us closer.”

Trying to see the light in the situation, Rafe gazed over the scene before him. He wondered for a moment what Sam might think if he was to walk in right now. No one was exactly playing nice, but they weren’t exactly playing foul either. Would he be happy to see them existing in the same room, or would he claim he needed to take a picture in order to believe it? It was an unhelpful thought to ponder, seeing as the only reason this was currently happening was due to the fact that Sam himself was missing. Rafe smoothed out the fabric of his slacks, before standing up again. Sully noticed the sudden rise, and before he was able to say anything in curiosity -- Rafe beat him to the punch by picking up his laptop where it had been sitting atop the cut out into the kitchen. 

“I know you cavemen think the world can only be viewed in what you find for yourself in print and libraries, but even Samuel knew how valuable the internet was,” it seemed as if he was unable to say anything at the moment without making a snide comment. 

* * *

Night fell faster than was expected on them, due to the pair being lost in their work. They had lost Sully around dinner, after a round of pizza had been delivered due to the two strangers' instances. Rafe hadn’t complained too heavily. He was no cook, and he didn’t want either of them making more of a mess of his kitchen than it already was. Sans one mixing bowl, he shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Victor Sullivan or Nathan Drake stepped foot once more inside with the intention of cooking. The old man had fallen asleep on the couch moments after the last bite was taken, and he had been sent back to his hotel room by Nathan. Rafe was busy printing out pictures from google maps by that point, trying to busy himself with something he was good at -- but he did not miss out on saying goodbye to the older gentleman. The promise that Sully would be back in the morning and the group would leave was unspoken, seeing as Nathan insisted he needed to speak to Elena first. 

“I’ll be right back,” Nathan said -- after the rolling sound of the rental truck Sully came in was finally gone. The youngest drake stood up and dusted himself off ( much to Rafe’s chagrin, there was nothing  _ dusty _ about his house. ) and removed his cell phone from his pocket. As if he felt like he needed to explain himself, Rafe was soon given an answer for where he was going -- despite not asking, or exactly caring. “Got to call the wife.”

There was something about the comment that sparked something inside Rafe. He knew that Nathan would mention to her that he was here. It made his lip curl. He remembered how much he hated her, simply because she was married to Nathan Drake. In turn it reminded him of how much he  _ hated _ Nathan Drake. There were many people in this world who could bring out true, unbridled rage in him. 

Nathan Drake had always been one. 

In Rafe’s defense, he had been the one to start it. As much as he told Samuel that, Sam always had to remind him that he hadn’t exactly made it easy -- but wasn’t that just a brother defending his brother? Nathan had never liked him. And while the feeling was mutual, Rafe had come into their relationship with at least the intention of being civil. He never knew if Nathan regarded him as a nuisance because the search for Avery was meant to be a brotherly bonding experience, or if it was because he knew he was sleeping with his brother. Regardless, Rafe would go to his deathbed insisting that Nathan Drake had started it. It had only gotten worse from there, though. Their continued relationship had fallen apart far faster than it would have if Samuel had not  _ died _ in that cese pool of a prison. 

Perhaps  _ that _ was as much his fault and it had been Nathan’s. While Nathan was very vocal and honest about how difficult it was to deal with Samuel’s death, Rafe was not. He had dealt with it the same way he was taught, the same way he dealt with everything in his life. He  _ didn’t _ . 

But that was then.

And this was now.

In this current now, it was once again Rafe and Nathan working together to find something started by Samuel. But instead of being a lost pirate treasure, it was Sam they were looking for. Rafe tucked one of his feet up and under his other leg, eyes moving over the screen before him. While Nathan had gotten them close with pictures of maps and Victor’s guidance, they both could agree that they could almost see the path that likely led to the site Sam found the artifact on -- with the computer. Minimizing the browser, Rafe exhaled lightly through his nose when he saw the background on his computer. He was never exactly one to enjoy personalizing things like this. The laptop had remained on it’s default nature background until one day he opened it to find that there was a photograph replacing the landscape. His eyes stayed on the image he never dared to change for a moment too long.

The cropping was terrible. It was obviously taken from the wrong angle with a smartphone, with the giant black borders on either side of the image. It was them, himself and Samuel. Samuel had taken it of them together in the hammock. The hammock that was not meant to fit two grown adult men, but somehow always did without falling down. He remembered that day vividly, because he had been so drained. His legs did not work right anymore, not since Avery, and Sam had already claimed the hammock. One fight later about who deserved it, had resulted in the youngest Adler laying atop the eldest Drake. He had fallen asleep there, and apparently Samuel had decided it would be the best time to take a photo of them. 

The image truly was terrible. One of Rafe’s cheeks was squished against Sam’s chest, and due to the cropping that ( and his shoulder ) was all that appeared visible. The large grin spread across Drake's face was accented by the finger pointing at Rafe’s head. A small clump of hair had spiked up in his rest, and Sam insisted he had taken the photo to show Rafe’s  _ devil horn _ coming out in his sleep. 

He didn’t realize how long he was staring at the photograph until the front door opened once more, and Nathan stepped inside.

“I’ll call you in the morning. Uh-huh. Yeah, I know. Don’t worry,” it seemed he was still on the phone. Rafe snapped the laptop shut as if he was caught watching something unsavory. “I love you too. Okay. Buh-bye.”

Swiping away and putting the phone back away in his pocket, Nathan’s eyes settled on Rafe who was staring back down at the pile on the floor. He seemed as if he was going to say something, but instead he moved over to the pizza box that was sitting atop the abandoned coffee table.

“I think I got all I could get out of his notes,” he spoke to the air. Rafe lifted his eyes to follow his form as he moved back to where he’d been sitting on the floor, slice of pizza in hand. He took a bite and continued to talk. “That Popov guy was a real piece of work. I had heard about him before, but it seems like he was something of a celebrity in his time. Got famous for doing a couple of hikes without assistance, and it wasn’t until he became some type of  _ zen mentor _ on releasing yourself from your negative personality that he really started to get traction.”

“Samuel said he reminded him of a fake spiritual healer,” Rafe snickered slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “One of the articles I read online spoke about how he was said to have gone into the mountains one day and came back a new man, and that was where his beliefs started.”

“I wonder if it has something to do with the curse.”

_ The Curse _ .

The start of a smile on Rafe’s face fell when the mention of the curse was back. The guilt of  _ why not me _ was heavy in his head again. If Nathan noticed it, and that was the reason he decided to speak, it wasn’t overly apparent. 

“But it’s hard to understand exactly what the curse is. Popov speaks in code as if he’s terrified someone is going to figure out what he’s saying, so it’s hard to actually understand his notes. Not to mention the fact that they’re missing large chunks,” balancing his slice of pizza on his knee, Nathan licked his fingers clean and picked up a carefully paper clipped together bundle of sheets. “You said Popov died in his bunker, but the articles of finding his body never mention the bunker.”

Rafe perked slightly, brows knitted. “He died in his bunker.”

“But they found him on the mountain, and the bunker is still unfound -- that’s the whole point of the treasure hunt, isn’t it? If they knew where his bunker was, no one would be searching for his fortune.”

“He died in his bunker.”

“Are you going to elaborate, or just insist you’re smarter than me?”

Eyes rolling, Rafe finally moved from his spot on the couch. Setting his closed laptop down on the couch, he moved towards Nathan. He didn’t miss the way he tensed when Rafe approached him, but he did choose to ignore it. Bending down, he picked up one of the notebooks amidst the mess. Nathan might want to make a joke about how Sam was less organized than he was -- but whatever controlled chaos Nathan had created here was something Rafe thought looked terrible regardless. Opening the notebook, he flipped through the pages -- heart clenching at the familiar handwriting of his missing partner. It took a few moments before he passed the book over to Nathan, finger pointing at a bit of writing left behind by Samuel. 

“ _ Ivan died in his bunker. His body was found on the mountain pass. Lia died in her home. Her body was found on the mountain pass.  _ What the hell does that mean?” Nathan finished reading the bit aloud. “There’s no mention of that anywhere in the notes, the news articles -- not even on that weird blog that was devoted to the mysterious death of Ivan Popov.”

“He died in his bunker. Sam knew it, somehow their bodies ended up on the mountain.”

“But how does he know that?”

“You can ask him when we find him.”

The air wasn’t stale, but it felt odd. Nathan stared at Rafe, before lifting his own hand and passing it over his face. Rubbing the scruff that was growing across his chin, he breathed out a breath.

“Listen, my brother is . . . good at what he does. Not as good as me, but he’s good. When he gets a scent of something he never lets go until he finds it, but that doesn’t mean he’s always right. It was probably a guess or something, you can’t take it as fact -- it would be impossible for Ivan Popov to die in his bunker, wherever that may be, but his body to be found shriveled up on a mountain pass.”

“As impossible as it would be for a sphere to be cursed?” He was challenging Nathan now, staring down at him from where he stood above him. Nathan stared back, opening his mouth for the second time as if he was going to speak -- before shutting it once more. He picked up his piece of pizza and took another bite. Rafe was unsure if he was admitting he was right, or if he simply didn’t want to argue at the moment. 

Rafe sat down, on the floor. It was slow, and he needed to use the couch behind him in order to get down properly. Nathan’s eyes followed him as he moved, until he was sitting properly with his back against the couch. Taking the notebook back, Rafe stared down at the page with it’s clean white background and black lines, pencil scratches. He mapped over the movement of the words until Nathan’s voice cut through the air.

“So,” he spoke, once again, around a mouth full of food. “What happened to you?”

“ _ Excuse me _ ?”

“What happened to you -- after everything,” a vague gesture of his hands as he swallowed down the mouthful of pizza. “How did you get out?”

Rafe stared at him. Only Nathan drake would have the gall to ask how you survived after he tried to kill you. The question brought back unpleasant memories. It brought back unpleasant feelings. He felt the sneer moving across his face as an emotion more than a movement. 

“What happened after you tried to kill me?” Rafe seemed to be ignoring the fact that it was also him trying to kill Nathan. That in those same moments, Samuel had been lying crushed underneath a beam. “When you cut the rope and the treasure fell, you should have checked. It didn’t catch all of me, just my legs.” 

“Just your legs?” 

There was a tense pause, but Rafe figured he had nothing to lose. What was the point in protecting pride, when your pride was already crushed? The Rafael Adler of all those years ago would never admit a weakness unless he was attempting to use it for emotional support in a deal that would benefit him. But that Rafe  _ had _ died on Avery’s ship. Extending one leg out, he leaned forward and pulled the sock that was on his foot down and off. Underneath the sock was a prosthetic foot. He didn’t notice if Nathan reacted, but he soon extended his other leg and removed the sock at the end of his organic foot. Underneath was a badly burned and mangled foot. It was missing two toes at the end, and rolling up the cuff of his slacks -- more of the scarring and carnage was exposed. He still remembered the weeks in hospital after he was found, thrown to the dogs by shoreline gruffs who either had some type of a moral conscience or other motives for not leaving him to drown on shore. 

“Just my legs. They took the brunt. The explosions on the other hand, well I wasn’t out of the ship in time to escape those -- but I was luckier than I could have been,” his eyes stayed leveled on Nathan. He didn’t move to show him his burns, he didn’t roll up his sleeves or lift up his shirt. Exposing his legs was as far as he was willing to go in order to show Nathan Drake a weakness.

Nathan was still staring down at his mangled foot. He noticed how he was avoiding looking at his missing one. 

“How did you get out?”

“I don’t know. Pure will to survive, I guess.”

Nathan  _ snorted _ at him. He had the audacity to laugh -- and Rafe bristled slightly. “Sorry, that just -- sounds so fucking stupid, you know? Pure will to survive?”

“Shoreline helped. I don’t know who took me inland, but I’m still not sure if I’m grateful they did.”

There was a nod from Drake as Rafe trailed off. Down to the crust now, he took another bite of the slowly diminishing pizza in his hand. He chewed slowly. 

“Sully will be here for us in the morning. We should get some sleep.”

“You’re staying here?” Thankful for the distraction and attempt to move the conversation on, Rafe still wrinkled his nose slightly at the idea of Nathan Drake sleeping in his home.

“I still want to keep an eye on these notes, and I don’t think anyone is exactly occupying the couch.”

Rafe did not open his mouth to dispute him. He didn’t dare tell Nathan that he hadn’t been sleeping in the bed since Samuel left. He typically slept there when Sam went on his adventures, but knowing that he was sleeping in  _ their _ bed while Sam was  _ missing _ had been too much to bear.  _ He  _ had been sleeping on the sofa. Wetting his lips, he nodded slightly.

“I guess Samuel would have my ass if I put you on the street.”

“Don’t say my brother’s name and your ass in the same sentence -- I just finished eating.”

A laugh rolled out of Rafe as he pulled his socks back on, eyes leveling on Nathan. If there was one thing that was sure to get a smile out of him, it was  _ bothering _ Drake. 

“I seem to remember you holding down your lunch back in Costa Rica when you walked in on us,” he all but purred in a tone that told he knew exactly what he was doing. The color drained from Nathan’s face as he watched Rafe slowly stand up, using the sofa behind him as his helper. 

“That’s because you stayed in the hotel room while I killed a fake plant outside with vomit, dickhead.”

“You can’t kill a fake plant, Nathan.”

“You can when you’re as sick as I was.”

“What time is Victor coming?” Rafe rolled his head on his shoulders, listening to the crack sound out in the room. He was ignoring him. The time in Costa Rica before they moved to the jail was a fond memory. And while the image of Nathan throwing up and being uncomfortable made him happy, he didn’t want to spoil it with the thought of vomit.

“He said six, so probably seven.” Nathan still appeared to be uncomfortable. Smiling down at him once more, Rafe was growing to be rather happy to stand above and over Nathan -- he nodded. There was no formal goodbye, but instead he started towards the bedroom. 

“I’ll see you at five.”

“What the fuck --”

“You’re sleeping in my living room, you’ll wake up when I wake up. And I wake up at five,” was as much of a goodbye as he was willing to pass over to him as he shut the bedroom door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay home, stay safe and wash your hands. Remember your masks if you have to go out and don't touch your face! Stay hydrated!!!


	5. The Mountain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented, or even just read this fic. This fic has become my comfort and escape and I'm having such a fun time, so I hope you all are enjoying it!

The low rumble of the plane was not something Rafe would ever get used to.

He was used to private jets, to expensive first class seats with plenty of legroom. Inflight drinks and meals. And while he had ridden in Victor’s plane more than once, and would more in his lifetime, he still would never be used to it. For a plane as small as his, it would take time to get from Hawaii to Russia. They all knew this. As Nathan told his wife the plan one more time, Rafe had packed a small bag of things that should be useful. A change of clothes, his medication, ointment and his gun -- with ammunition to spare. Victor had supplied Nathan with his own firearm. None of them knew exactly what they were getting into, but they had the facts laid out for them. 

Samuel was missing. He had been looking for Ivan Popov’s lost bunker with the million dollar fortune, when he had come across a small artifact. A sphere that shone like opal, that apparently held a curse. Ivan Popov had been found dead, and his wife had followed soon after. The facts were on the table, and since Samuel Drake had gone missing from his own home -- they were unsure about if the actual danger was the curse or a rival treasure hunter. 

They should bring guns, and so they did. 

The plane rocked heavily, causing Rafe to reach for the seat under him and hold onto it. It wasn’t exactly that he was feeling  _ sick _ \-- but he wasn’t feeling well at the constant rocking. The way his stomach rolled with the gusts was a fact he’d be happy to ignore when their feet found land. 

Victor was taking them as close inland as he was able to. His plane wasn’t meant to land atop of large mountains, but there was a lake close enough to their destination that they wouldn’t have  _ too _ far to travel to make it to the pass. It was something that Rafe had noticed during their time in partnership, but Nathan Drake seemed to know a man in every corner of the world. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when the youngest Drake was able to pick a name out of a small journal in his bag and secure a car to meet them in the town next to the lake. They were parting from the old man there. Nathan had asked Sully if he would come with them, but Victor had insisted that someone needed to be there with the plane and he’d never make it up the mountain anyway. A comment about Rafe’s leg was left out, after a pointed stare in Nathan’s direction. 

“That’s the mountain,” the voice drew him out of his thoughts as he turned slightly in order to look where Drake was gesturing. The mountain range was vast and expansive, towering and -- had it been viewed under a different circumstance -- Rafe would have called it beautiful. 

“I don’t see the pass.”

“That’s because the forest is so dense,” Nathan was viewing it with a squinted gaze. Rafe wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that the sun hit the clouds differently up here, or if it was because he was getting old. His attention was back to the mountain. 

“We saw it on the map?” Rafe wasn’t meaning to sound as if he was disputing what Nathan had to say, it was simply the tone his voice took when speaking to him. 

“Eh, different view, I guess. We’ll be able to find it once we get to the base. It’s not exactly a commonly hiked area, but we have the coordinates from the internet.” 

Another jerk of the plane, and his attention moved once more away from the window and towards Victor. The smell of the cigar was heavy in the air, but he had no room to tell him to put it out -- this was his plane after all. 

“I’m taking us down, boys.”

“Got it,” Nathan was standing up now -- holding onto what he could in order to move his way up the cabin to the front of the plane. Rafe watched as he climbed in and sat down next to Victor. Their speech was loud enough that he was able to hear it in the small cabin, but he didn’t exactly pay attention. Instead he looked back out the window. The tight feeling in his chest was back, as was his seemingly permanent scowl as he viewed the mountain below them. The view of the lake caught his eye, but all his attention stayed on the trees. The trees that, hopefully, held the secret to what happened to Samuel. Alone with his thoughts, all Rafe could think about was Sam. 

The small comment from Nathan back at his home stayed in his mind. About how Samuel had just gone missing. Rafe told him that he had just left -- and that was the truth. 

_ ‘This is what you were looking for? It doesn’t exactly look like it’s worth a million dollars.’  _

_ The clink of dishes being done was the tune to which he spoke from his perch on the couch. His better leg was spread across the sofa, while his less than whole appendage rested off the side. Prosthetic leg removed and propped against the edge, he was done for the night. Samuel had gotten back in the early hours of the morning, and after a proper sleep and some food -- the two had settled into their typical routine. Sam cooked, and while it was technically Rafe’s turn to clean up -- he knew Samuel was trying to butter him up since his little adventure had gone on longer than he intended it to. Which was the reason all he could see of his partner was shoulders up as he did the dishes in the kitchen.  _

_ Eyes settled on the small object wrapped in cloth on the coffee table, Rafe felt a bit cheated if this was all he came back with after being gone for so long. _

_ ‘That’s because you can’t see it,’ Sam’s voice came to him. The sound of the faucet being turned off and water droplets hitting the counter as the barbarian  _ shook _ his hands dry reached Rafe, who continued to stare at the object in question. He turned his attention back to Sam as he came around the bend, finishing drying off his hands on his shirt -- damp marks littering the brown fabric. ‘Also that’s not his fortune. Just a keepsake.’ _

_ ‘So you’re going back?’ Rafe’s face was turned down into a frown. He knew Samuel didn’t enjoy staying in one place very long, he knew he had something that he liked to call an itch -- for getting out there.  _

_ ‘Yeah, but not yet.’ Sam was on the couch now, lifting up the extended cat-like leg of the man next to him and laying it across his lap. He pushed up the fabric of Rafe’s slacks and began to rub small circles into the ruined skin of his ankle. Oh, yes. He was trying to butter him up. _

_ ‘Why did you come back if you weren’t finished?’ Rafe wasn’t about to just let him get away with his sweet touch.  _

_ ‘Because I had someone at home waiting for me.’ _

_ ‘You hit a deadend, didn’t you.’ _

_ A pause. _

_ ‘I hit a deadend.’ _

_ The smile that blossomed across Sam’s face was infectious. He hated it, but he smiled back at him -- not quite as radiant as the cheeky man -- and reached out for the wrapped bundle on the coffee table.  _

_ ‘What is it?’ he asked, but just before he was able to touch the cloth -- Samuel snatched it away. There was a look in his eyes that said something unspoken.  _

_ ‘Nothing.’ _

_ Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he eyed him -- pulling his leg away from him. Using his arms, he pushed himself up properly on the couch -- in turn sliding away from Samuel. ‘Really.’ _

_ ‘Really -- shit, okay,’ Sam let out a breath. Now that he had both hands free, he was able to hold the artifact properly. Being careful, he slowly began unwrapping it. Rafe caught sight of the item in his hands -- and for reasons unknown, he felt a lump form in his chest. Nestled inside the cloth like a small precious gem, was a beautiful stone.  _

_ ‘Opal?’ _

_ ‘No, it’s not opal.’ _

_ ‘It looks like opal.’ _

_ ‘I know but -- it’s not. It’s something of Ivan’s,’ Sam insisted. Rafe was sitting up more by now, and reaching a hand out for the item in Samuel’s fingertips. But just as Sam noticed what he was doing, the older man wrapped it back up tightly and set it back on the coffee table. _

_ ‘Ah-ah-ah. Don’t touch,’ the teasing voice rang out.  _

_ ‘Why?’ The scowl was fixed on him. He was starting to get annoyed, which was not something he wanted to do right now -- especially since Sam had just gotten back. But he couldn’t help it, not with how  _ annoying _ Sam was currently being.  _

_ ‘Because I asked ya’ not to?’ As if that was all he needed to say. Narrowed eyes and an easy smile, Samuel started to advance on Rafe. Knees on the couch, he slowly began a type of crawl over to him -- one arm resting on the back of the couch and the other pressed into the cushion of the seat. _

_ ‘That’s a terrible answer,’ he said -- trying to keep up the fight, but with Sam so close to him after being away for so long he was losing. It was a terrible advantage that Samuel had over him, a weakness he once had used to push him away entirely.  _

_ ‘Can’t you respect my wishes?’ Samuel all but purred as he leaned in, pressing his face into Rafe’s neck. Nose moving against his skin, Rafe could hear the inhale as he let a sharp one out himself when lips met his flesh. He had more than enough comments to say back to him, but instead he decided to let himself fall into his weakness. Eyes fond, he reached up and laced his fingers through chocolate brown hair -- and gripped hard. Yanking Samuel’s head back and away from his skin, he saw the aroused smirk that was plastered across Drake’s face before pulling him in for a kiss.  _

_ It was late by the time that Rafe left the bedroom. He had to untangle himself from the caveman’s arm over him, and reach for the cane that rested next to the bed on his side. He wasn’t in the mood to get his leg or hobble around his home when his bladder called for attention. The sight of Samuel in the moonlight was almost enough to get him to ignore the ache for relief, but he soon found himself leaving and making his way to the bathroom. A few moments later, and his only thought was of sleep until he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  _

_ The artifact.  _

_ Rafe paused in the doorway of the bedroom, staring over his shoulder at the coffee table and the sphere laying on it. He wasn’t sure how, but somehow it had become unwrapped. Assuming that Samuel had been neglectful in wrapping it back up, he spared one more glance back to the bedroom before making his way over to the sofa. Propping his cane up, he sat down and reached for the stone. Picking it up by it’s wrappings, even in the dark of the room where the only light that came through was that of the moon -- it shone beautifully. He could see the color shift in it, and something about it once again made his chest feel tight. But also at ease, in the same light. _

_ ‘What’s so special about you?’ he murmured, curious as he turned it in his fingers, careful not to touch it. Samuel had asked him not to. He still didn’t understand it, but the more he stared at it -- the more he had the impulse  _ to _ touch it. He didn’t know what it was. But staring at the stone, he felt like if he touched it -- all his anxieties would slip away.  _

_ ‘Because you asked me not to.’ There was a light chuckle to his voice, as he held the palm of his hand not holding onto the stone out, and turned the other over. The artifact fell from it’s cloth prison into the palm. It was cold to the touch, and the weight was no different than that of when it was wrapped. Cold, cool -- it was smooth in all places except one. He hadn’t noticed before, but at the base that had been hidden with the wrapping -- it looked more like solid rock. Rough as if it had been chipped away from something. Rafe felt his chest tighten more, but he didn’t feel anxious.  _

_ He felt strange. _

_ Eyes locked on the small sphere -- could he even call it a sphere anymore now that he saw the imperfect base? -- he couldn’t tear his gaze away. It was as if there was something in the stone that was calling to him. Drawing something out of him. He might have sat there all night had it not been for a sound from the other room -- Samuel rolling over and letting out a rather unattractive snore.  _

_ Rafe dropped the stone.  _

_ Looking down at where it laid on the floor, wondering what exactly had just happened. His hand tingled, and his gaze moved away from where the object laid to his palm. Nothing about it looked different, in fact it looked normal. But the tingle remained. Clenching his hand into a fist, he reached out with the other for his cane and stood up. He’d tell Samuel in the morning. Rafe assumed he would be mad at him for not respecting his wishes -- but he would still tell him. There was no impulse to touch the artifact where it laid on the floor now. Where moments before he was compelled to touch it, he now felt no desire to reach down and pick it up.  _

_ Making his way back to the bedroom, he was more certain than before that he would tell Samuel in the morning. _

_ Little did he know that come morning both Samuel and the stone would be missing. Rafe would never feel him leave the bed, and he wouldn’t know anything was strange until the morning sun woke him on his eyes and his bed was cold. _

Stepping out of the plane wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do, since it was a step up onto a dock. Victor attempted to assist him, but Rafe -- while his pride was dead -- had insisted on doing it himself. A radio was passed between them in case they lost cell phone communication, and then they were off. A mostly silent walk to the town was followed by a mostly silent ride up to the base of the mountain. Rafe’s thoughts were elsewhere, and it seemed that Nathan’s were as well. 

No real communication between the two was exchanged until Nathan parked the jeep at the base of the cliff.

“Damn,” he cursed. “I was hoping it’d be able to take us further.” 

“Guess we’ll have to walk.” 

Hiking the bag up onto his back, Rafe took one last check of his firearm in order to assure that everything was in working order. Nathan gave him a side eye before following suit. 

“What do you think we’re going to find up there?” Nathan asked after getting his own pack and slinging it over his back. Rafe saw the trusty grappling hook hanging off his hip. He wondered what  _ Nathan  _ expected to find up there.

“Samuel.”

‘And if we don’t?” It was a realistic question, one that was plagued with worry of running into a deadend and not actually finding a brother on a mountain.

“Then we keep looking.”

“ . . . We keep looking.”

A shared look followed by a nod from the blue eyed man, and they were off. Heading for the mountain pass, it would have been too much to call it a  _ trail _ exactly. Following the GPS for the coordinantes they expected to find the mentioned site at -- they slowly made their way up the mountain. Rafe’s legs didn’t work like they used to, but that didn’t mean he was going to sit this one out. It didn’t mean he was planning on slowing Nathan down either. Not that he exactly  _ cared _ about slowing him down specifically, but he didn’t want to be any less involved in finding Samuel than he was. 

The hike was expected to be six hours. That was the time given to them by the GPS, and while they had made it up a little further on the mountain with the jeep than expected -- it wasn’t as far as they had wanted to go. The silence of the forest was peaceful. Rafe was enjoying it. But it seemed that silence was not exactly something Nathan Drake was good for -- a fact he knew from working with him twice before. Still, he wasn’t expecting to hear his voice two hours into their climb.

“You know, I never expected you to be out here like this. Searching for Sam.” 

Rafe looked at the back of the man before him, brows furrowed.

“What do you mean by that?” He was slightly out of breath from the exertion, but not to the point where he felt he needed to take a break. 

“Y’know. Don’t bite my head off, but the last time I saw you -- you socked him good with the butt of a gun and left him for dead under a beam on a pirate ship. This is a bit of a turn around for everything I’m used to,” it seemed as if this was something Nathan had been thinking about. 

“I wasn’t in the best headspace three years ago.”

“Yeah, see when I get in a bad headspace I like to go for a drive or a walk. I don’t try to kill people.” 

“I never said you were interesting.”

There was an actual  _ laugh _ from Nathan. Something about it made the corners of Rafe’s mouth pick up. It reminded him of Samuel. While he and Nate had never gotten along, that didn’t mean he didn’t see the similarities in the brothers. He loved one of them. It was hard not to be reminded of him in the other. 

“Seriously, did almost dying give you a totally new view on life?” Moving up and over a rock in front of him, he looked back down at Rafe who was glancing to see if there was another way. Extending his arm down in front of him, Rafe was almost caught off guard by the sudden extension of help. He stared at it for a moment before wrapping his fingers around his forearm -- using the younger Drake in order to hoist himself up. 

“No, but therapy is helping with that.” It sounded dismissive, and he wanted it to be -- but judging by the look on Nathan’s face, the comment wasn’t going anywhere.

“Therapy? Seriously?” There was a half cocked smirk, and Rafe felt a bit annoyed by it.

“That and the drugs.”

The laugh was followed by them continuing on. “That I can see. But therapy? You? No way, man.”

“It’s not as funny as you’re making it out to be,” there was a tinge to his voice. His dead pride was attempting to come back again, and he had to bite it down. There was a beat of silence from Nathan. 

“I just never expected it,” was all he decided to say for a moment. “But I should really learn to stop having expectations.”

“Nathan.”

“After all, everything seems to go the opposite way than I’d think they would -- so really, who am I to  _ expect _ anything out of life?”

“Nathan, shut up.”

A huff from Nathan was followed by Rafe’s hand coming out and grabbing his arm. “Hey -- I’m talking here!”

“Exactly,  _ shut up! _ ” It was hissed out much lower than his previous comment, and something about the tone seemed to tell Nate than he was serious. He quieted down for a moment. There was nothing but silence. He leveled Rafe with a look that spoke volumes about how  _ not _ funny that was -- but Rafe decidedly said nothing in reply. Instead he was staring out into the forest.

“What?” the exasperated tone from Nathan cut through the quiet.

“Victor told us that Sam said it was about a six hour hike up the mountain, right? To Popov’s site?” there was something in his tone that told Nathan something was wrong. 

“Yeah. Why?” he stared too in the direction Rafe was looking. Nothing seemed off, but something about it had caused Rafe to stop dead in his tracks. Something about it was pulling him -- he felt the same type of tug and desire that he felt when he held the stone. It was different, it was strange -- and the memory made his heart race. 

“I think it’s this way.”

“And why exactly do you think that?” 

“A feeling.” It sounded stupid, Rafe knew that. And Nathan didn’t seem too amused that the only thing drawing their hike to a pause was a  _ feeling _ . 

“Well, sorry to tell you this -- but your feeling is wrong. That’s off course. We charted the whole course, remember? You were there, with your stupid computer and everything.” The last bit was mumbled, but it didn’t draw anything out of Rafe. Instead he continued to stare out into the woods, half expecting something to jump out at him. 

“So we go off course.” Rafe took a step over into the direction he felt he was called to, letting go of Nathan’s arm. 

There was a loud sigh from Nathan. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Can’t you trust me?” It was his turn to hit Nathan with a leveled look. He knew that was a stupid thing to say, and he was not surprised by the comment that slipped out of Nate’s mouth.

“No?”

He paused instead for a moment. Nathan didn’t trust him. That was fine, that was  _ fair _ \-- especially due to the fact that he didn’t trust Nathan Drake. But this was serious. This was about Samuel. And something in that direction was calling to him -- he needed to follow after it, but he didn’t know how to get that across to Nate without simply leaving him behind.

“Can you trust that I want to find Samuel as much as you do?” Hazel eyes seemed to shine more blue in the forest light as they made contact with the deep blue of Drake. Nathan wet his lips as he stared at him, before his whole chest seemed to move with the effort of his sigh. 

“I guess.”

“Then it’s  _ this  _ way.”

Nose wrinkling, Rafe watched the emotions cross over Nathan’s face as he thought about what Rafe said. As if he was admitting a truce, he held up the GPS and pressed some buttons in before putting something down in the notebook he kept in his back pocket. Rafe said nothing since they didn’t move from the spot while he did whatever it was he needed to do.

“An hour.” Nathan finally said. “One hour off course, then we get  _ back _ on the trail and back to the plan.”

“An hour hardly seems like enough time.”

“Then go by yourself.”

Rafe scowled at him, and while the idea of going alone without Nathan to bother him was a comfortable thought -- the idea of being alone in the woods was not. He wasn’t afraid, but he did know his limitations. He knew what he was able to do. And if something happened, Samuel would be lost to him and he would be lost to the woods.

“One point five.”

“ _ Fine. _ ”

* * *

The crunch of dead leaves under their boots was the only sound to be heard as they moved through the woods. Cutting across a mountain was different than moving up one, but it wasn’t exactly easier. It was easy to lose one's footing, and Rafe had to make use of a branch as a walking stick in order to traverse until they made it to more solid ground. The air was tense around them, seeing as how Nathan did not want to make the strange detour -- but something inside Rafe’s gut made him know he was right. Nathan Drake might be a god damn legend, he might be some type of finding dog when it came to treasure -- but Rafe knew he was right about this. It felt good, knowing he knew something Nathan didn’t. He had no idea what it was exactly he knew, but it still felt good. 

“Rafe?” Seeing as Rafe was now in front, he glanced over his shoulder at Nathan who was looking up into the canopy above them. Glancing up as well, he didn’t see anything that would bring his attention, and instead turned back to Nathan.

“What?”

“You know, I thought this back there on the pass,” The youngest Drake started. “But where the hell are the birds?”

His comment struck something in him. Rafe suddenly looked all around them -- silence enveloping them once again. That  _ was _ strange. There were no birds. No chitters in the forest, no sound of animals moving about, no song of mating and affection. 

“You’re right,” his brows were up. 

“Have you heard a single bird since we got to the mountain? Cause I don’t think I have.”

“I . . . “ Rafe trailed off slightly. He shook his head and started walking. 

“I don’t like this.” 

The hazel eyed man couldn’t help but agree with him on that, but said nothing and instead pursed his lips. This was about Sam, not  _ birds _ . And while he admitted it might have something to do with one another -- he still didn’t want to make a comment on it. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he checked the time. They had been walking for close to fifty minutes in the direction of Rafe’s choice. They covered a decent chunk of ground. 

“Forty minutes and we turn around. I’m going to radio Sully.” 

Rafe looked back towards him, but said nothing as Nathan dug the radio out of the side of his pack. Their walk did not cease, and Rafe upped his gate as he moved. The reminder that he was on a time limit like some type of a child made him feel a bit frantic, even if moving in the direction of his choosing had felt  _ good _ to the pull in his chest. He wanted to see something.  _ Anything _ that would tell him they were going in the right direction. Anything that would tell him his feelings were correct. 

He paid no mind to the conversation behind him. Nathan was telling Sully that they went off trail because of some feeling Rafe had, and Sully was agreeing with Nathan that it was a stupid thing to do. He caught that, but it was more like a mindless noise behind him. His eyes scanned the trees before him, not seeing a single thing that stood out to him until his foot made contact with a rock and he lost his balance. The noise that left his throat was anything other than dignified, and he heard the shout from Nathan behind him as a hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

It  _ hurt _ but it stopped him from going down properly. The walking stick in his hand assisted as well, as he dangled for a moment -- weight supported on both stick and the grip of Nathan.

“Did you forget how to walk?” Nate sounded annoyed as he stepped closer and helped Rafe up. There was color to Rafe’s cheeks that they both decided to ignore as the Adler bit back at him.

“I only have one full leg and that doesn’t even work properly . . . anymore . . .” he trailed off in his retort as he stared down at the feet in question. Eyes widening. 

“I know, I wasn’t -- shit, I wasn't trying to make fun of your disability. Hey,” Nate seemed to notice the way Rafe stared. It was a common occurrence, Rafe staring out into the distance -- but now he was looking down at their feet. Between his boots -- something shone in the light filtering in through the trees above them. 

Rafe didn’t move, but Nathan did. He reached between them, moving around him, and picked up the object in question. It was a ring. A small silver ring, not anything expensive by any means. It had a slit in the back that allowed it to be adjustable to fit on any hand, and it was nothing but tarnished fake metal with stamped writing on the front. 

“This what caught your eye?” Nathan turned the ring over in his fingers as Rafe stared at it. “Wait -- this is Sam’s. He wore it to Christmas last year. Elena said it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen and he got so mad at her.”

Rafe continued to stare at the ring. “He bought it after we saw it at a flea market. A local woman was selling them, her daughter made the rings at home. I said they were ugly and he bought the one that said  _ forgive  _ to piss me off,” his voice was nothing more than a whisper. He hated that ring. It was corny, it was disgusting -- and it was not something that either of them would wear. It was something a house wife would wear on her knobbly fingers after viewing a meditation tape once about how to get over her ex-husband. 

But Sam never took it off. It went from being something ironic to being a true keepsake between them. He never took it off, and he always wore it on his ring finger. Rafe’s chest felt tight. He took the ring from Nathan and turned it around in his own fingers -- half expecting to see blood on the back. Letting out a breath when he didn’t. 

“Why is Sam’s ring out here,” Nathan now looked around as if he never observed where they were before. “You think Sam was here?”

“He had to be,” Rafe’s voice was tighter than he would have liked. “He never took it off.”

“You think it fell off when whoever had him took him?”

“No,” he shook his head -- having no true connection to the idea that Sam didn’t simply lose it. “No, Sam did this. He knew we’d be looking for him.”

“Rafe, shit like that only happens in movies. He’s not leaving us a fucking breadcrumb trail --”

It was Nathan’s turn to be cut off, as he looked slightly up in slope to where they’d been walking. Where the duo had been cutting across the mountain completely, glancing more uphill revealed something else. He took off running and Rafe was left to look after him for a moment. Slipping the ring onto his finger, he soon followed in suit behind him. On the tree up above in front of Nathan, was a carving.

_ CMSM _ .

“CMSM?” Rafe read the words that looked like they were initials carved in. He didn’t understand how the two could be connected to Samuel, but Nathan was staring at the tree with a large grin plastered across his face.

“Sam.”

“Sam?” 

“Yeah -- this,” Nathan suddenly seemed sheepish. “Crystal Matthers, Samuel Drake. It was Sam’s on and off girlfriend when we were kids. He put that everywhere as if to prove his love for her, until suddenly it became less about her and more just something he did.”

Rafe bristled slightly at the comment of an old girlfriend. “Why would he carve it here?”

“Why would he leave the ring? Why would he do anything?” Nathan sounded far more excited and happy than he had moments before -- than he had this entire time. “Because he knew we’d be looking for him. He’s leaving us clues.”

“Like the movies.”

“Like the  **_goddamn_ ** movies!” Nathan was laughing, passing his hand over his face. He looked back down towards Rafe, a broad grin plastered over his face. “We’ll keep moving south, but we’ll move up as we do. I think Sam’s trying to lead us to him.”

Rafe watched him for a good moment, before nodding. He looked down at the ring on his finger and tightened his grip. The feeling that they were moving in the right direction was back, and the clues were only cementing that thought.

They were coming.

They were going to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always; wash your hands, stay hydrated, stay at home and stay safe!


	6. Press on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't my favorite, but I hope you enjoy it! Thank you, once again, for all your comments!!!!

It was almost as if someone had lit a fire underneath their boots. Or, at least, underneath Nathan’s. Rafe already had the fire burning under him. He wondered if, perhaps, Nathan hadn’t been expecting to find anything on their excursion up the mountain pass -- maybe a  _ clue _ . Rafe glanced down at the ring on his finger -- the hand wrapped tightly around the walking stick in his palm. The ring felt like a grounding point of sorts. It was proof -- that Samuel had been here. Rafe remembered seeing the ring on his hand when he was home, just days before. He knew he hadn’t lost it before he came back from the mountain -- it had to be recent. 

“This means someone has him,” Nathan spoke as they made their way up the mountain. Rafe had been thinking the same thing -- but the real question was  _ who _ ? “Nothing to do with the curse. Probably some asshole who saw him and thought he found the bunker.”

“It doesn’t explain how he got all the way home before they took him,” Rafe was unable to not be the bearer of conflicting information. Because he did have a point -- why did whoever took him let him get all the way back to Hawaii? “Or why they let him  _ carve _ something into a tree.”

“Yeah, reminds me of that scene in the second Mummy movie where Alex was leaving all those clues for his parents before Imhotep realizes,” moving a section of brush out of the way -- he stepped through before Rafe was able to follow.

“. . . The what?”

Nathan looked back over his shoulder at him, before letting out a laugh followed by an eye roll. “You’re kidding.”

“I haven’t seen that film.”

“C’mon, it’s a classic.” 

Rafe didn’t enjoy being teased, instead he frowned as he followed after him. “I didn’t exactly watch films growing up.”

“Let me guess, it was all  _ business, business, business, listen to Daddy and learn how to be annoying _ . Right?” Nathan was still moving steadily ahead of him as they slowly climbed the mountain, moving south. “I always assumed hunting down Avery was an act of rebellion.”

“I was rebellious,” Rafe seemed as if he needed to defend himself for a moment. Though his tone was light. 

“What’d you do, refuse to do a spreadsheet?”

“. . . I trashed a hotel room, in my childhood.”

Had they not been on a life or death mission to save his older brother, Rafe wondered if he wouldn’t have stopped to look at him. The only response for a moment was a loud  _ laugh _ .

“What are you -- a rock star? You trashed a hotel room?” Nathan was still laughing at him as he moved another grouping of brush out of the way, this time allowing Rafe to come through it before he let go. 

“Yes,” The youngest Adler was smiling now. The corners of his mouth were turned up as he recalled the memory. It wasn’t a good one, but if he was being honest it was  _ funny _ . “I was sixteen. I was supposed to be learning from one of my Father’s partners. I was sick of being pushed around and they changed my medication, so I did the only logical thing I could. I trashed the hotel room one night.”

“How bad was it?” Drake paused for a moment, glancing over the area before them in order to make sure he hadn’t missed any clues. Rafe gave it a look over as well.

“Mmm.” Rafe pursed his lips. “Bad. I smashed the window to the balcony with a chair and threw the bed over the railing.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding you. I was in a bad headspace.” The return of that quip made Nathan laugh. 

Rafe felt  _ strange _ . He did not like Nathan Drake, but his chatter seemed to be infectious right now. He wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he was in a better mood having gotten some clue on where to find Samuel. Talking so lightly with him was an act he never thought he would do. He had to blame Samuel for a lot of things he never thought he would do. 

“How close are we to the trail we were on before?” He decided to ask after a moment of silence. The absence of birds, now pointed out to him, was unnerving. Perhaps that was why they were talking so much. Nathan dug the GPS out of the side of his pack once more, checking it by where they were. The time had passed and it seemed as if they would not be heading back to the proper trail, and instead opting to follow Rafe’s feeling. 

“Not close, but if we keep heading this way we’ll probably get close to our objective. Just a weird way to get there,” he said after a moment of checking it over. Rafe nodded slightly. He didn’t know if the actual trail they were headed on was an easier route -- but he was right about wanting to go this way. It had led them to the ring, to the carving. Who knew what else it would reveal, if not Sam himself?

Using the stick to help him, Rafe continued the climb. He wanted to take a rest. He wanted to sit down and breathe for a moment, but the fire was lit and they needed to fan it. If they were going to get close to the actual site they were after -- there was still  _ hours _ left. His breathing was heavier than he would have liked, and while he hoped no attention was being drawn to it -- he was sure it echoed in the quiet forest. He wished the birds would return, if not for his mental sanity but to drown out his pathetic breathing.

“Let’s rest for a minute,” Nathan -- as if reading his mind -- spoke out. There was a rock formation ahead of them, and while it looked like the perfect place to sit down, Rafe shook his head.

“No, we should keep going.”

“We’re not going to do him any good if we’re on death's door by the time we get there.” Drake seemed to be making a proper point, but that didn’t change the fact that Rafe felt he was being pitied. 

“No.”

“Rafe, I’m tired,” there was a sigh as he removed his pack -- closing in on the formation. Setting it down on a large rock, he plopped his ass down as well. Rafe paused, staring at him for a moment too long. “You want to keep going? Be my guest, but I’m resting.”

And as if he was weighing his options, Rafe leveled him with a look, before removing his own pack and setting it down on a higher rock up hill than Nathan’s. He moved to sit down on it, unzipping his pack and pulling out the half full water bottle he had been nursing. There was quiet between them as they hydrated and relaxed. Rafe’s legs were killing him. His  _ better _ leg ached, and what was left of his right felt numb by now. He fished around inside his pack for the small pill container, twisting off the childproof cap before shaking a few into his palm. It was only then that he realized how disgusting his palms were. It wasn’t as if he had never been dirty before, but it seemed like only times such as these would he forget something as easy as keeping his hands clean. It didn’t stop him from tilting his head back and popping the pills inside his mouth -- only to drown them down with his water. 

He felt Nathan’s eyes on him and after he swallowed down the purchase, he caught sight of the eyebrow quirk. 

“They’re for the pain,” he told him -- only to have Nate shrug as if he had never  _ asked _ him to start with. Rafe snorted and rolled his eyes. Closing the bottle back up, as well as his water, he tucked them back inside his pack, zipping it closed. 

“Whatever gets you through the day, man.”

Rafe opened his mouth in order to say something else when suddenly -- a new noise entered the forest. For it being as quiet as it was, the  _ snap _ of a twig followed by foot steps coming down the mountain was as loud as an elephant through the city streets. 

“Get down!” Nathan hissed under his breath to him. Rafe did just that, moving behind the rock formation in a way that he hoped concealed him from whoever was on the mountain above them. Nathan moved up next to him, the two of them tucked underneath the natural ledge. They shared a glance as their ears strained to listen. Wanting to catch a glimpse of whoever was walking this deep in the forest, Nathan held a finger to his lips as the sound of footsteps stopped. It didn’t sound like the stranger was so far off that they were unable to be seen by the pair -- but Rafe hoped whoever it was was unable to see  _ them _ . He wasn’t exactly interested in having the rug pulled out from under their feet.

As if they decided what to do next through eye contact alone, the pair slowly began to stand up -- as quiet as a mouse -- until just their heads peaked over the natural ledge. Eyes scanning over the forest before them -- they caught sight of who had drawn their attention. Rafe opened his mouth to say something just in time with Nathan  _ slapping _ his hand over it to keep him quiet. Eyes wide, he wondered for a moment if he had taken the wrong pills. Either way they wouldn’t have worked that fast. There seemed to be no solution for what he was seeing at the moment -- there was no answer for it. It was as much of a mystery as the silence of the woods, of the lack of birds, of the disappearance of Samuel Drake. 

It was him.

Not Sam, but  _ Rafe _ .

Standing at the top of the incline, arm against a tree -- was Rafael Adler. 

Seeing himself standing among the trees had almost caused him to shout out. What else was one to do when you knew you were  _ right here _ , and yet -- there you were. Just out of arm's reach. 

The man, Rafe refused to refer to him as himself in his head any longer, had a gun on his hip. It was obvious and shone in the light coming through the trees just as the ring had on the forest floor. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up around his forearms, and the slacks he wore were baggy around his legs. But it was the sleeves that drew Rafe’s attention. Rafe knew his body. He knew it well, and he  _ hated _ it. Looking in the mirror was agony of late, but he had every inch of himself mapped out. If only because Samuel enjoyed mapping it with his fingers. He knew his own arms. He knew the scars that laid there, that were terrible, rooted and smooth. 

The man on the hill had no such scars. 

As sudden as they had noticed him, and as if time had stopped and started once again, the figure began to move. The gate he used to traverse down the mountain was smoother than Rafe’s climb up, and he wondered for a moment if he had both his legs intact. There was a terrible feeling in his stomach at the idea, and he was thankful Nathan had not yet removed his hand from his mouth. The double on the hill stopped once more after moving down the mountain, bending down and lifting something up. 

It was a shirt. 

It looked like the shirt that Samuel had gone to bed wearing. Ugly and blue with a texture over it that reminded him of clouds. But it wasn’t purely the fact that it was Sam’s shirt that caused his teeth to grind -- no, it was the fact that the ugly blue color was stained with dirt and red. The blood Rafe had hoped not to see on the ring was here, on the shirt the double held up in the sunlight.

“Found you,” hearing his own voice coming through the silent forest caused goosebumps to sprout up on his flesh. It even  _ sounded _ like him. The double folded the shirt over his arm, reaching down to his hip and removing the radio from it. Turning the dial and pressing down the button on the side, static rang out. 

“I found it,” he echoed and chills rolled down Rafe’s back as he once again heard his own voice. “What else did you drop?”

Nathan’s grip on Rafe’s face tightened. He didn’t dare look to see what Drake's expression was, seeing as he couldn’t break his eyes away from the figure before him. There was no noise coming back in return to the question on the other side of the radio. 

“I’ll find the ring too, you know. I can’t believe you dropped so much before I noticed, Samuel, really -- you are slippery,” there was a chuckle as the double started to make his way back down the mountain again. The sound of his feet coming closer caused both Nathan and Rafe to drop back down behind the ledge. Heart hammering in his chest, Rafe tried to put together what was happening. 

Honestly, he had nothing.

Nothing but the fact that on the other end of that radio -- was Sam. They hadn’t heard his voice yet, but it was Sam. It had to be. He had to be listening. The urge to scream, to get Sam to hear them was strong. He spared a glance at Nathan, who was looking at him with wide eyes and knitted brows. 

And a gun, pointed in his direction.

Rafe’s eyes widened and his brows rose on his forehead when he saw the gun aimed at his chest. Opening his mouth slightly, he wanted to say something -- but he didn’t want to draw the attention of whoever that was with his face beyond the rock formation. Nate stared at him, their eyes locked. Hazel with pure blue. 

A snap of a twig caused them both to look up for the rocks. A quick glance at one another, and Nathan removed the gun from where it was pointed at Rafe’s chest. It seemed like he was apologizing with his eyes, but Rafe reached down for his own settled at his hip anyway. Turning off the safety, they shared one quick glance before Nathan reached up with his free hand for the edge of the formation and hoisted himself up with a grunt. Rafe, unable to perform such feats, lifted his good leg up onto one of the rocks in order to lift himself.

The sudden movement drew the attention of the double on the ridge -- causing him to whip around with his gun pointed in their direction.

“Drake --” he spoke, venom in his voice before his eyes caught onto Rafe. It seemed when he saw Rafe that he smiled. It could never be called a pure, and happy smile. No -- it made Rafe feel a bit sick seeing something so twisted on his own face. The way the corners of his mouth lifted up to show teeth, eyes narrowed -- he wondered if he had been too quick to call it a smile.

“Right, who are you?” Nathan confronted the double. Rafe just managed to pull himself up and over the edge, a small grunt leaving him but his gun never leaving the double. It didn’t seem that the double was in the mood to talk, as he turned his guns aim from Nathan towards Rafe.

The sound of the shot rang out through the forest. While Rafe was disabled, it wasn’t something that was going to leave him laying on the ground waiting to be killed like some type of beast. He was moving as soon as he saw the double changing his attention towards him. Nathan’s own gun rang out as well in return, aiming for the double in question who -- upon seeing he had not made contact with the Adler -- was moving back up the mountain. He was fast, faster than Rafe -- and Rafe was once again reminded that he must have proper use of both of his legs.

“ _ Shit! _ ” Nathan shouted out, firing off a few more rounds -- almost clipping the heels of the double as he sprinted up hill and away from them. Rafe’s heart was racing, and he was pulling himself up. Nathan glanced back down towards him, and Rafe nodded -- teeth digging into his own lip in frustration -- as the pair began to chase after the mysterious man.

“Who the fuck was that?” Nathan yelled back to him. Rafe was moving as fast as he could, but with the fact that it was uphill and Nathan  _ was _ faster than him -- there wasn’t much he was able to do. He followed as best as he could, his head feeling like a fog had settled over it. 

“I don’t know,” he bit out the words. 

“Why the fuck did he look like you?”

“I  _ don’t know _ !” Rafe shouted at him, raising his voice in an angry tone for the first time in a long time. His heart hammered. Whoever that was, they had Sam. They took him from their house, and they  _ looked _ like him. He wanted to be sick. He remembered the blood on the shirt. For a man who had shed so much of Samuel’s blood, seeing someone else do it was not something he was comfortable with. The sick part of his mind from all those years ago was in the back whispering that only  _ he _ was allowed to do that. Only  _ he _ was allowed to spill crimson from the eldest Drake. 

His body ached as they moved up the mountain, no longer having his stick to assist him -- it felt almost as if he was more  _ crawling _ than anything. Nathan made it to what seemed like a flat point before he did. Drake stopped, hands on his knees -- panting from the exclusion of effort -- before letting his head flop down. Not understanding why he was suddenly acting in defeat, Rafe soon came up behind him -- grasping onto a tree as his chest heaved in effort. He realized what was upsetting Nate as soon as he got there. 

There was nothing. 

Nothing, not a goddamn thing.

The area they stopped at was flat, an expansion of the cliff side that was naturally built in. They lost the double. Rafe felt the ache in his chest as he sucked down breath, before slowly lowering himself to the ground. He heard Nathan’s curse but he paid it no mind. Hands coming up to hold his head, they tangled in his hair and formed tight grips -- almost as if he was trying to pull the strands out. It was quiet. The forest was quiet again, but his head was so loud. He heard Nathan sit down as well, bother struggling to catch their breath.

“You saw what I saw, right?” After a few moments of total silence, Nathan Drake once again broke it with his words. Rafe removed his hands from his hair in order to lift his head and look at Nathan. He looked as confused as he felt. 

“It was hard to miss.” 

They fell into a pause once more, Rafe wetting his lips. It occurred to him that they had simply  _ left _ their packs back down on the rock formation. He was thirsty, but he made no mention of it. 

“You pointed your gun at me. Did you plan to shoot?”

Nathan seemed shocked that Rafe brought it up, brows jumping up on his forehead before he looked away. He cleared his throat, but Rafe’s eyes never left his. He was still thinking about it. He did not trust Nathan -- but in the same breath he needed to have  _ some _ degree of trust if they were going to work together to find Samuel. He’d be lying if he said he never expected Nate to pull a gun on him. Just not like that, out of nowhere. 

“Yeah,” Drake’s voice was a bit sheepish. He rubbed a hand over his face once more, eyes settling down on his sleeves as he mused with the cuffs there. “The thought occurred to me that this was a big set up and you were working with a brother to get the jump on me and Sam.”

The look that Rafe leveled Nathan with spoke volumes, and he could tell how Nathan seemed to  _ understand _ what he said was ridiculous. 

“Why the fuck would I climb a god damn mountain with one working leg just to  _ get one over _ on you and Samuel?” He couldn’t help it. The anger was coming back up and the entire situation was too much for him to simply ignore it or work through it like he typically did. “Why would I live with Samuel for two years just to turn on him  _ now _ ? It’s asinine.” 

“I said it  _ occured _ to me -- but I realized it was a little far-fetched even for  _ you _ , okay?” Nathan rose to his own defense. “I’m sorry, okay? But you haven’t really given me much reason to trust you in the past. Seeing -- whoever the  _ hell _ that was -- didn’t make me feel too comfortable about our  _ partnership _ . I think I have a point here.”

He did, and Rafe knew that. But Rafe was still working very  _ hard _ to be a rational man. He ground his teeth and glared down at his knees.

“I don’t know who that was.”

“I know, but he sure looked a hell of a lot like he knew who you were.” A beat. “Like he was you. Shit, he sounded like you.” 

There was silence as they both seemed to be weighing those words. Lifting their heads at the same time, they made eye contact again -- Rafe’s brows coming down to knit. 

“You don’t think it has something to do with the curse, do you?” Nathan asked. He was sitting up onto his knees now, pulling his notebook out of his back pocket and writing something down. “You said you touched the arficat, right? Ivan Popov’s whole  _ thing  _ \--” Nathan made a broad gesture with his arms. “Was expanding the human consciousness. In his papers he wrote about moving past petty notions of greed and selfishness, of obsession and anger. In one of his works he talked about seperating your negativity from the positive light inside yourself. I figured it was all spiritual guidance bullshit, but what if it wasn’t? What if there was a way to actually separate it from yourself?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rafe bit back. “This isn’t a book, and Ivan isn’t Dr. Jekyll. Besides, that doesn’t make any sense, Drake. I’m  _ still _ angry. If your words had any weight to them -- I’d be different than I am, but I’m not.”

“No, you’re not. You’re still an asshole.” 

Rafe didn’t have the energy to glare at him, but his look did not move from his direction. Nate chewed the inside of his cheek and flipped back through the notebook in his hands. “Damn, I wish I had the rest of Sam’s notes with me. Maybe there was something I missed.”

He didn’t want to think that Nathan had a point. But that nagging voice was back in the depths of his head telling him that Nathan was  _ good _ at putting together shit like this. That he probably had a point. That he wasn’t  _ wrong _ , was he? 

It caused a new worry in his head, on what would happen if Nathan wasn’t wrong. What would happen if he was right?

“When I touched the artifact,” Rafe started after a few minutes of nothing but the sound of Nathan fussing with his notebook. He was looking at the space  _ next _ to Nathan, as opposed to looking directly at him. “It felt like I  _ needed _ to. I never planned to touch it.”

Nate’s eyes stayed on his face, he could feel them. 

“Like you needed to?”

“Like it was drawing me in. It was the same back at the pass,” Rafe’s brows knitted further as if he was starting to put things together. He wet his lips, not enjoying the conclusion that his mind was coming to. “The same feeling of anxiety. If I didn’t touch the stone, if we didn’t move this way. They were the same. As soon as I let the feeling win, the anxiety went away and I felt relieved. But when I let go of the artifact and put it down, looking back at it -- there was no feeling to touch it anymore. It was almost as if . . . touching it took care of that urge.”

The silence that lapsed between them was heavy. Rafe sat in it, trying to figure out exactly what he was getting at. Was he really saying this had something to do with the curse? It seemed like such a broad jump to make -- and he didn’t even know where they landed when they made it. What exactly would it mean if they were correct, if the cursed artifact had something to do with Samuel’s disappearance. If it had something to do with the man on the hill who wore his face.

“This is insane,” his voice was strong -- but his face was not. It was clearly written across Rafe’s features that he felt thrown off. For a man who had been so used to wearing masks, it was difficult to throw one back up after years of letting it go. It was hard to pretend. Difficult. Frustrating, even.

“Yeah, well -- nothing makes sense,” Nathan reminded him. “Not you, Sam, that artifact, or me being here on a mountain in the middle of Russia with  _ you _ .”

Rafe lifted his gaze slightly in order to look  _ at _ Nathan again, as opposed to simply looking around him. They made eye contact once more. Licking his lips, Rafe stood up -- ignoring the sharp pain shooting up his body. He reached down with dirty hands to dust himself off, ran a hand through his hair in order to attempt to fix it and breathed in through his nose. Jaw set, he figured he had allowed himself to have a moment long enough. It seemed like Nathan was waiting for him to speak as his eyes fixated on him.

“You’re right,” he pursed his lips off to the side slightly. “Not a bit of this makes sense. We’ll figure it out once we find Samuel.”

“Are we just going to pretend that he has all the answers?” Nathan asked, lifting himself up a little bit as well -- a quirk of his mouth showing the hint of a smile, though his eyes looked less than sure. 

“Sure,” Rafe shrugged a bit, wincing when his shoulder cracked. “I don’t have any, and neither do you. So let’s do the only thing we can do. Press on.”

A bit of a wave from his hand in a direction, Nathan followed his gaze.

“That way?”

It seemed like he was acting as if Rafe knew the way. Realizing that  _ perhaps _ he did, he stepped forward to see if he felt that invisible pull again. Nothing. He sucked his teeth and ground them. It was as best a guess as any. South, moving up. Keep in their direction from before, hopefully they’d find a clue.

“That way.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill! Wash your hands, stay home and stay safe -- and stay hydrated!

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay at home, stay safe during this difficult time in everyone's life, and wash your hands !!!


End file.
